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An American Dream
I looked around the nice restaurant. There were not many people here, just a few couples scattered around the room immersed in their own conversations. I could not remember the last time I had been in a city bigger than my hometown. My cousin, Christina, had moved to New York City a few years back. I rarely left my small home in rural Massachusetts. She convinced me to come and visit her. When I arrived, and we had caught up with each other; Christina told me that she knew a man that I should meet. I was not too anxious to meet a man. I had some unsavory encounters in the past. She believed that I was too shy. To make her happy I agreed to go on the blind date. Christina told me that he was a poet and that she had met him at one of his readings. I guessed that since he wrote, too, at least we would have something to talk about.
By Almárëa Laurësil7 years ago in Poets