First Date

"Look what the postman brought,"
you told me afterward you said
as I walked by your window,
bleary-eyed from want of bed.
Kind words, and kinder still
the cup of coffee that you gave
me to clear up my fuzzy head,
the product of my last free night,
although I didn't know it then.
Computer-matched, we'd corresponded
for some weeks with thoughtful pen,
hoping to escape from ordinary people
playing at the dating game,
me from women, you from men.
We chatted, sensed each other's rhythms;
a gorgeous day, what should we do?
What better way to be outdoors
than at the San Diego Zoo?
The drive, two hours long, gave us
a chance to talk some more, bypassing
ploys of newly-mets because we knew
each other better after minutes
than do many after years.
We strolled, were holding hands when we arrived
at sea-lion pools, forgetting former fears
and dead romances, for we sensed
one must be set to answer yes
when opportunity appears.
You sparkled; I outdid myself;
we walked along La Jolla's cliffs,
enjoyed a dinner by the sea
and setting sun, inhaled the whiffs
of ocean secrets, living for
the moment and ignoring all
the pesky buts and ifs.
The drive back to LA was happy
and in tune, a musical duet.
We kissed at your front door and I
was gone, but we will not forget
that day and all that grew from it;
the seed of love was planted then;
the grown tree blossoms yet.