"Blind Date" by John C. Mannone

Blind Date

John C. Mannone

             Baltimore 1967

At a mixer in an all-girls college up the road

from where I went, I met a beautiful coed:

                 short sassy blond

                 hair, brown eyes,

                 athletic, feminine.

We danced to a live band most the night under stars

glinting off the faceted mirror ball above the dance floor.

"Blip" Watercolor on Paper
By J. Artemus Gordon

That gold colored fixture spun a little faster than a slow

dance, its sexy red lights changing to green then blue,

bathed our faces too.

                 When I kissed her

                  goodnight, I knew

                  I’d want to taste those

                  supple lips again.

                  She invited me

                  to another date.

Funny thing, though, she wanted me to do her

a favor and take her lonely friend to a junior prom.

I wasn’t used to blind dates, especially dress-up

ones, but reluctantly agreed. She was a pretty girl,

                 a quiet blond, large

                 hazel eyes, blush rose

                 cheeks; feminine

in her full-figured gown; nice smile. I suppose

she was as nervous as I. We danced to the band,

talked about our futures. She wanted to be a nurse,

I, a doctor. And of course, we talked about the weather.

                 When I kissed her

                  goodnight, I knew

                  she was too innocent.

                  She invited me in

                  to her car for a ride

                  to the lake or park.

I kissed her again, told her to make out

the details of her dreams until they’re reality.

And I went home to work on mine. I never

saw either one of those two girls again.

Poet's Notes: Relationships are like a dance, sometimes elegant and smooth, sometimes wild and jerky. The structure has long flowing melodic lines as if in a waltz, punctuated by short enjambed lines to a different more jazzy rhythm to echo this.

I had a nostalgic moment thinking about my college days (Loyola College, Baltimore). Much of this “coming-of-age” poem is true, but I took some liberties.