the blue shirt

after months of emails
and texting, phone calls
and flirting.
you finally meet.
she brings you a cupcake
she baked herself.
you put on a clean shirt,
a new one, one you've
never worn before.
it's blue.
you shave. you brush
your teeth.
at the end of a pleasant
evening
of food and small talk,
agreeing on nearly everything
you walk her to her car
in the mall parking lot.
you try to kiss her,
but she turns her cheek
just in time,
avoiding any lip contact.
she gives you a hug,
a friendly pat
on the back, then shakes
your hand limply.
thank you for dinner
and drinks, she says.
you're a gentleman.
let's stay in touch.
you drive home and think
about what happened.
it's the shirt, it
must be the shirt,
you think. slowly you
unbutton it,
you ball it up and toss
towards the trash can
in the corner.