August twenty-first
nineteen and seventy-six
I married the man
I’d met in May, set up
on a blind date
by friends who later said
they knew.
My best friend asked
by week two
if he had proposed.
I laughed at her.
The conspiracy had begun
before we were introduced.
We spoke little
the first three dates.
He was terribly shy
and I
thought he was angry.
He kept saying no
till he did get angry.
He was angry that I asked
not at anything about me
or that I’d done. I cried
and his sister-in-law
yelled at him.
I was embarrassed.
We spent a lot of time
with our group, our gang,
that bunch of buddies.
One couple fought loudly.
My guy asked later
that we not fight
like that if we married.
I teased him
and asked what
he meant by if.
But the air was full
of a serious note.
He came back the next
week wanting a date
for the wedding.
He’d told his mother.
I was shocked. But,
in a short month
love had bloomed.
Love real, if not explosive.
Love of the soul and heart.
Now we will celebrate
our thirty third year.
Smiling, we know it has been
a life well played.
A short interval
became a lifetime
of satisfaction.
Joe, my love, my mate.
