First Date

Cole Depuy


It is the ghost
I know
I can play so well.

I scan her
jade rings, yoga pants.

Her eyes hold me
as I search for an angle to despise.

In the parking lot,
she exits
stands on the curb.

“Are you going to be mad
at me if I don’t kiss you?” she says.

I laugh, “It’s cool,”

She flashes her high school
superlative – Best Smile –
turns, hair brushing tailbone
and disappears through glass.

On the passenger seat
I see her gloves.

Did she leave
them on purpose?

I wear them and touch my lips.

Marijuana and lavender
like radium.

I drive away glowing.



Cole Depuy’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Penn Review, Boston Accent, Heartwood, pacificREVIEW and elsewhere. He is a Ph.D. student at SUNY Binghamton’s Creative Writing Program and recipient of the Provost’s Doctoral Summer Fellowship.