A perfect day to risk hitting on a Baptist baby.
I was a Catholic.
You were a girl
and so was I.
There was a spin of the bottle the week before.
We felt the difference.
(The difference was we would go on spinning like that bottle.
You spent one or two away, but I kept tap dancing on your tongue.)
Our first date was a double date.
You brought a boy.
I brought a boy.
You and I went home together,
no pity for the fools who fell for us.
We were the fools,
fickle and fabulous non-fiction.
So April drops in again today,
joking over silenced memories and some two thousand miles.