Struck Out on the First Date

The ball thunders down the lane,
Leaving a bright blue trail along the wood,
Illuminating the path to the pins.

She says bowling shoes look good on me,
Because I can pull off anything.
Her compliments keep me going,
Along with the hot dogs I devoured for lunch.

The weight of the beef and the bread in my stomach
Makes me relive my meal.
My stomach cannot take it; I throw up
Just as she leans in to kiss me.

I’m never eating hot dogs again.