Sharon Waller Knutson
Bio Note: Since February is the month we celebrate Valentine’s Day and we can all use some lightness and love in our life, I am sharing humorous poems I wrote recently about finding your one and only. My poems are all inspired by true stories with some details fictionalized for poetic purposes. I am grateful for the love and support I receive from this community of poets. My work has recently been published in: Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Five-Two and Red Eft Review.
At the Saturday Night Singles Dance
The mechanic at the Chevron on Seventeenth Street asks me to two step to Boot Scootin’ Boogie while he waits for his dance partner. I really want to line dance, but it’s the least I can do since he fixed my flat on the freeway on Friday. As I’m walking off the floor, the Ford dealership salesman in the silk suit takes me for a spin for the first time since a stiletto stabbed me in the instep as we rounded the corner and collided with his ex and he got the restraining order after carrying me to his Camaro. Just as he plops me in the folding chair, the tall cowboy in silver sideburns Levi’s and Stetson hat and boots ducks his head under the doorway. He’s a rich Wyoming rancher who’s here to find a new wife and mother for his seven children, the word vibrates on the vine. The divorcees and widows, all gussied up in panty hose and flared skirts, hunting for husband number two or three, hold in their sagging stomachs and breath, hoping he’ll whisk them around the floor and across the state line, except me. I’m enjoying the cool air blowing from the vents, the music blaring on the record player and watching him inspecting us like livestock at an auction and testing out selected mares as they prance and trot around the room tossing their manes and parading their pedigrees. Since I am not qualified for the position with two jobs and an invalid mother, I drag my dentist out on the dance floor as Conway croons Crazy in Love. His dentures clicking to the beat of the music, we waltz and jitterbug until the rancher rides off into the moonlight in his Chevy Silverado with his intended.
Sampling at Baskin and Robbins
Mango mingles with maple in my mouth as she says Michael is the man I am going to marry. Are you sure? I savor the sugary swirling strawberry. In the spring it was Stephen. She tastes bananas and butterscotch. I left him for Larry. I swallow a spoonful of scrumptious pumpkin cheesecake. But then I met Michael and I knew... She relishes the raspberry ribbon until she munches the almond honeycomb. What happened to Henry? I ask. Who? She drops her spoon and makes a beeline for the bulging biceps holding a blast. You like blueberries? His voice is deep. She licks his spoon. What’s your name? He says Brian and she says I’ll take you. Before I can ask: What about Michael? she is sashaying into the sunlight with her new flavor of the month, but I am too content to care as papaya and pineapple join in wedded bliss on the altar of my tongue.
©2021 Sharon Waller Knutson
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