The Blind Date
Expectations kept low.
Hopes somehow uplifted.
Is it to adventure
or desperation I've drifted?
A soft voice?
A good personality?
This is a sure sign
of insanity.
Gorgeous, but quiet.
An understatement at best.
The tables are turned,
and it's me at the test.
She's detached
and distant.
Only in silence
is she persistent.
Shy or disgusted?
What is she thinking?
Can't she do something
other than staring and blinking?
I keep on talking
to no avail.
If there's any reaction,
I can't tell.
The night's over.
It's about time.
Once again
they've messed with my mind.
Blind dates,
I must confess,
are just another way
women cause me stress.
written 8-2-98
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