It started with a jello mold
At a cookout in summer
For a few not-so-close friends

Then I wrote her a poem
One I could never reveal
Not an uplifting poem
But one that spoke of her miseries
Trapped for a time
In servitude to substances
Mind-altering and mind-numbing

But that was then
And a few months later
She's a brand new person
At least to the casual observer
But in my observations
I'm not often casual
So I know better
But choose to set aside that knowledge
For the sake of the hope
Of another date

Our first date was a soup date
Split pea with ham
I ate most of it
Froze the remainder
She didn't have time that day
To sample our soup
The anklet she wore
Summoned her home
Still in servitude
No longer to substances
For the time being
But still in servitude
To a past she's still paying for

She brought her baby to the second date
A cute little guy
I spent more time with him than with her
As she baked cheesecake
That I didn't get to sample
The clock again
Not on our side
The curfew intruded
On what might have been

Maybe we'll have a little time
The third time around
But more likely
The past predicts the future
And I'll not sample her dishes
And she'll not sample mine
As I enter into her servitude
For the hope
Of one more date