Meet you at Two

When Eli mentioned  
over coffee,  
between a book swapping section  
and the white, wooden staircase,  
my inadequacy    
as a partner  
   
I was deflated.  
It was like the stage  
of our conversations had melted from my eyes  
and he continued pouring    
a string of words  
I could not hear.  
   
We paid the bill.  
I didn't question his motives  
when we went Dutch, felt a little tender,  
and tried to button up the    
low gap  
on my grey blouse.  
   
He touched my shoulder  
and grieved a blank smile before bowing out.  
I watched from the window as his friends,  
from the office, smiled outside beneath umbrellas.  
I counted the gold-trimmed books on the shelf  
waiting for the rain to stop.