November 1968: the Hunted

November 1968: The Hunted Got divorced couple years ago, second time At first, I mirror myself as a low-life loser Jack without Jill, McGee without Molly Ossie without Harriot, Adam absent Eve No fourth finger, gold band of respectability Instead wagging digits of family and friends Then discover a stimulating, singles society Connect at cocktail lounges and corner bars dating services, social clubs, work cafeterias commuting club cars, once at a church social Mindlessly, I transform into a blissful bachelor ‘til a Swedish mermaid magically materializes Attend a Singles, Saturday eve swim fest. Stand in shoulder deep water, arms rest on side of pool Envision my later-this-evening date with Debbie a waitress, Embers Dinner Club; off at midnight Suddenly, a splash surges up from the surface Engaging eyes and a sparkling smile follow A melodic voice sings out of a beautiful face, body, “Hi, my name’s JoAnne, what’s yours?” I stutter, stumble, finally mumble, “Uh, ah, Joe.” Captivating conversation tightens a growing knot A troubling thought thunders through my mind “It is already too late. This one will do you in” In three months, JoAnne re-arranges my world I vacate my bachelor pad, move into her house Say good-bye to Myrtle, Julie, Cindy, Debbie Say hello to Jo’s folks: Alice, stepfather Nolan Marry short time thereafter in their Swiss chalet Introduce Jo to my folks during our honeymoon Meet endless number of new Swedish relatives: Norman, Sigurd, Don, Jim, Dorothy, Ruth, Violet Stop wearing same smelly shirt around house Go back to church. Take up tennis and skiing Change jobs from Motorola, a manufacturer to Deloitte, bigtime professional services firm Spend entire summer scraping, painting JoAnne’s weathered, all-wooden house Wonder with each scrape, stroke from a perilous ladder position; what happened Stunned by my supersonic-speed surrender Today, fifty years later, my head still spins