The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Patent Leather Shoes Dance My Song

Patent leather shoes dance my song
They hop and skip, and slide against the sidewalk
I do not care about the cracks or breaking backs.
I am Ginger Rogers, tap tap tap
Fred Astaire is astounded at my dancing prowess
I twirl. I whirl. I am living the 1950's famous dancer duo's life
I am Ginger and I am Fred.
I am whirling and twirling my happiness.

"GET IN HERE IMMEDIATELY!"
It is my mother's voice.
My heart begins beating double time.
I check myself as I walk.
My dress is still clean.
My long curls have not been completely shaken lose
Then I notice all the wet grey speckles on my brand new lacy socks
Uh-oh.
Sunday School starts in ten minutes
And now my twin will be the pretty one.
I will have to wear the plain socks
without the lace

I can tell by my prissy mother's face
That she was not as taken with my 
Whirlish dervish mud puddle dancing
I stick my tongue out at my more-like-Judy-Garland face
after I change into the horrid plain socks
Not dancing now
All whirly-twirly gone.
Died a natural death
Sunday school 
Damn
Place of
Shame
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Bauer Avatar
May 16, 2019 at 5:14 PM
you've captured this memory brilliantly, caren! i love this one...
Krutsinger Avatar
May 16, 2019 at 11:46 PM
Thank you Ilene. It was pretty easy. I remember always being ashamed of something at Sunday School thinking I was a big sinner. That is why I threw that in.
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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace