image from pinterest.com
Prom Night
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as
to accept the one that is waiting for us.”
--Joseph Campbell.
It was Prom Night.
Rob sat there with his hands in his lap,
holding the corsage.
He was 18, and was there
to pick up Miss Kathy King.
Her father sat across from him
glowering, his arms folded.
Rob had been going steady
with Kath all year,
an eternity in high school time.
He would have liked to fold his arms too,
and make eye contact with Mr. King,
but the young man understood
the courting ritual.
Mr. King was a prominent banker,
and Rob was from a blue collar family.
Kathy’s Dad kept staring
at the modest ill-fitting suit
the boy wore; it was his father’s.
His folks had warned him
about dating a girl from a wealthy family,
but young love disavows
all barriers to its fruition.
Finally Kathy descended the stairs
in her lavender evening gown.
She was a vision of blond cheerleader ecstasy.
He presented her with the compulsory corsage.
Her mother pinned it on her.
Her little sister came out to join the parents.
Her mother told them to have fun.
Her father reminded them of the midnight curfew.
The kids stood for a picture, waved, smiled,
and rushed out to Rob’s red 1955 Chev Bel Air
convertible.
He opened the passenger door for her.
Her starched petticoats swished
as she pulled them into the car.
As he walked to the driver’s side
he fantasized about “going all the way”
with her, as she had promised.
The Chevy V-8 lit up, the glass packs rumbled
as they pulled away from the curb.
Rob glanced into the rear view mirror;
the little sister was waving good-bye.
The kids giggled nervously.
The waiting for this evening was over.
A half mile away a delivery truck rushed
toward its destination. At the intersection
of Maple & Main, Rob, distracted, entered
the intersection without looking both ways.
The speeding truck T-boned them
on the passenger side.
Kathy was killed instantly.
Rob broke his spine, but survived.
Now a new kind of waiting began,
as the terrible memories raged
like a wildfire in his heart.
Glenn Buttkus
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub
13 comments:
What a sad story. Your illustration is great, and the poem has that 50s, maybe 60s feel. A local girl was killed on her prom night here this year - it seemed like even more of a tragedy than being killed on any other night. This story reminded me how many lives were ruined by one mistake.
A brilliant depiction of the time this story is set in. Very sad, but well crafted.
Oh, how sad! This is well written Glenn.
You took me there with your story, Glenn. I wonder how many times it will play through his mind...
This puts me in mind of those long ballads that used to be recorded on 45's. very sad.
This was charming, riveting, and catastrophic Glenn. Loved the set up to the date, excellent. But good heavens bro — look out, look out... “dead man’s curve”, really? You killed Kathy — and crippled Rob. Harsh dude.... �� :-) ...but very well written.
That sounds like a prom night one would never forget. This piece really plays with my emotions. I think one never truly recovers from an event like this yet, one waits for salvation.
That is a terrible waiting. Well described tragedy.
We didn’t have proms or cheerleaders when I was at school; they became popular over here in the last fifteen years or so. I only knew about them from Stephen King’s Carrie and American films and TV. I got involved in the story you told, Glenn, with such vivid detail, and baulked at the shock ending.
Saw the ending coming as soon as you gave the elaborate details of that splendid little car. Unfortunately, this ending happens too often. Nice bit of writing, Glenn.
A night of promise replaced by a lifetime of regret. Well told.
I wonder how many times you can relive a moment like that... how much can change in an instant.. and he will wait for the end in his wheel chair.
Quite the story, Glenn, evokes an era, a shock ending...didn't see it coming....I like the accumulation of detail, and the tension between Rob and the father...JIM
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