His Name was Marc

There was
talk of my
bracelet, which
I told him was made
of seeds.
(They were really
just cheap
Wooden beads.)
He admired it.

Following—
a common
deep love
of music.
(I’m sure I
mentioned
Marvin Gaye.)
He agreed fully
of the man’s talent.

We shared week-old
Gummy bears
(green is my favorite)
that were
stashed in my purse.
He thought I was sweet.

And then he
(in the most gentlemanly
of ways)
walked me home.
(I told him I was fine
by myself.)
I told him of my
passion for the
flowers currently
in bloom around
the neighborhood.
(I stop to smell the
lilacs every single day.)

The next morning
I awoke to a vase
full of daffodils, lialac,
cherry blossoms, camilla,
and a single white lilly
arranged in the most
professional of manners.
(Perhaps he was a florist?)

I took the flowers to work,
(to get them
out
of the house.)

He asked me to
a carnival later that day
(because he liked my energy.)

I told him
point blank
I don’t remember
his face.

Two days later
more flowers
were upon my doorstep.
no vase though—
just a disheveled
collection of purples
and pinks,
that looked
as though
there was too
much handling
this time.

Tonight, I shut
my blinds,
and locked
the door.