Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

Chicago Strawberry Blonde…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: gritty Chicago stories,Love and Romance,My Own Personal Hell,subtle erotica — Bob at 11:17 am on Wednesday, February 6, 2013

© January 29, 2013

Something romantic
Please
For a moment

46 years ago,
January 27, 1967
Chicago
Had its greatest
Snowstorm
Ever

I was trapped
In my mother’s house
(where I didn’t live)
With a bunch of my sister’s
College friends
There for a party
Also trapped

I was 16
Not a cool 16

Over the next three days
I managed to
Fall in love
With this

 Tall
Willowy
Strawberry Blonde
An older woman
Of 18

Who invited me
To neck
With her
The first night
Of that party
As if I knew
What to do

It became a
Passionate
Three days

Then
She was gone
It killed me
I was a junior in
High school
She was a freshman
At UIC
No chance 
For me

Now I’m 62
Now she’s 64
But to me
She’s forever 18
No more to say
She’s the one that
Got away

She did write letters
To me
I’d read them
At midnight
Over and over
I still have them

I saw her again
One more time
Nine months later
(don’t make anything of that)
After I bought a car
At 17

I had to drive to
Southern Illinois
Managed
To make a fool
Of myself
Because of how
Intensely
I felt
About her

Then
She introduced me
To her
New fiance

It was a
Long
Long
Drive home
That was
Our last contact.

Was it my worst moment ever?

It was perfect.
Passion in amber.

Pet Clark singing

 “My Love”
On the record player

The dreamiest girl
In the room
Wants to neck with me?
On the couch?
When I couldn’t
Get a date
In High school? 

Couples lying
All around us
In the dark
I had to
Look around
To figure out
What to do

Two hours earlier
I’d read poetry
In this big room
Filled
With college people

To my amazement
They listened
The Strawberry Blonde
Must have
Really liked it
Evidently
 
First time I learned
That
Poetry
Really
Matters

I can still
Remember
Her scent

Oh Jesus!!

 

About the writer and his other life in Skokie, Illinois:

Bob Katzman’s Magazine Museum: 100,000 periodicals back to 1576!
Wall of Rock: 50 years of cool Rock periodicals on display & for sale
4906 Oakton St. (8000 north and 4900 west) Skokie, Ill 60077
(847) 677-9444 Mon-Fri: 10 am to 5 pm / Weekends: 10 am to 2 pm

Katzman’s Publishing Company site: www.FightingWordsPubco.com
Katzman’s online non-fiction stories: www.DifferentSlants.com

Poetry? For me, writing poetry is not an option.
It’s a response to emotion. Like cigarette smoke,
it’s fast-flowing, shapeless and with little time to capture it.
Writing poetry in an imperative. I say what I feel compelled to say.

I sell my five published books via mail order and accept major credit cards.
I don’t use PayPal. I just talk to people on the phone.
Fast, reliable service. Read my stories and see what you think.
I’m also available for hire to read my true Chicago stories to organizations
and answer all questions. I autograph my books when I sell them.

I am currently seeking an agent to do more readings.
Feel free to call me at the number above.

 

 

2 Comments »

Comment by J Steve Adler

February 6, 2013 @ 5:28 pm

What do you think triggered your memory of those events? This does not seem to be the only time you have written about a beautiful girl/woman/lady. It is picturesque to say the least. Interestingly enough it is the first time in 30 years that I have had someone describe a “strawberry blonde”.

Comment by Bob

February 6, 2013 @ 9:46 pm

Steve, well…in this instance, I think of that particular beautiful blonde every single January 27th because the extreme weather event created the opportunity for the totally unlikely romance.

I write about beautiful women, beside my wives, because they were there. Not everyone gets initiated into everything necessary to know at 17 by a non-English speaking 28-year-old French-Jewish cellist, do they? Who needs to write fiction?

As far as Strawberry Blonde, like you, i have most of my life in the past now, and a detailed awareness of the time before I existed. If you knew my one strawberry blonde, you too would sigh every 1/27 and think about the one that got away. I can see her in my mind right now.

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