This poem is called text her back because
I'm not sure why I reached out to befriend
you, but you taught me how to swing dance
beneath the lone concert awning in the middle
of Veteran's park at 9:00 pm.  Is that how they
do it in Texas? The niceties of i-don't-quite-know-you
and I'm avoiding telling you my age because I'm
worried I'm such a baby.

This poem is called text her back because I thought
calling you a blessing was a bit of a stretch for we've-
only-known-each-other-for-a-week, I don't know the
details, drowned out in nuances,
afraid of "I'm sorry, you
thought differently,
it was just a
dance."