What I Thought He Meant Poem by Sarita Brown

His Family welcomes me with open arms.

for my intiation, i get a white robe, a new name
a pass to all potluck feasts and communal sing alongs
A red book with my name on it and
the guaratee of getting my name
actually into
into! !
the book of Life
(if i manage to keep my nose clean.)

I learn all the cheers. I can sing like an angel.
My mother is proud of my new associations and i
start to primly cross my legs inside the building which
i inhabit at least five times a week for all
posted activities.

There is no mention of my questionable background
or my penchant for asking the wrong
question at the wrong
time. seeing as i come with a
direct reccomendation from the lord and liege himself
and
all.

all my little flaws, so prominent before now,
have been erased.
(or at least stored in the archives in case they
are needed later.)
Yes.
I have arrived.

One day, as i am leaving to walk home,
he is waiting outside,
leaning against the bike,
looking miserable.

oh, hi, i say.
sorry i haven't called,
but your folks have kept me
really really busy.

he glances up.

'you know', he says quietly,

flicking
his hair
out of his eyes,
running his hand down the warm motor casing,

'When i asked you to ride?
this wasn't exactly
what i had in mind'.