Wrong Date

It was not a Parisian café though it tried to be. Our teeth were strong they flashed intermittently. The house wine was red, the bread was good bread. The creamy leaf was dressed, it bloomed and licked the mouth with a blithe bouquet of ease and tease. The fish was dunked in a blue dish of piquant delight. A butter fat flounder fandangoed upon our tongues just right. We were trying, working the words, leaning into anything that would further our cause. Alas signals were misread gambits misunderstood subtleties stubbled over ambrosial food. Tight lipped we nibbled and sipped. Time slipped, barely recovering, the waiter was smooth, his speech a soupcon of olive upon a slippery smear. We tried to repair tried to mend that which was not there. At the frothy tick of the hour coffee dark resignations shrugged. We briefly hugged while hope crumbled upon a red and white cloth, hurried promises exchanged, a cheek peck and wane smiles pale preludes to nothing at all and nothing arranged. It was awhile since yet we met again though we were ever the same, for nothing went anywhere and that was it to be never again.