Ski Date
It was a date, not our first one though,
He thought it would be fun in the ice and snow.
I’d never skied, never put on a ski boot,
Never rode the tram, never skied down a chute.
He would show me how, it would be such fun.
I turned and asked, “Is there a bunny run?”
“You will be okay I’ll stay by your side.”
My first heart attack came on the tram ride.
“Keep your toes pointed in, it’s called a snow plow
Just lift off the seat, oh, wait, steady now!”
Yes, of course I biffed it right off the tram
And my falling caused a big traffic jam.
He helped me get up and brushed off the snow.
I felt like a two-year-old as he took me in tow.
He checked my bindings, my ski poles and boot.
He led me over to the easiest downhill route.
The first run I wrapped my arms around his waist.
We were going to go slow no need for haste.
His skiis on the outside mine in the middle
We looked like the punch line from some silly riddle.
Snow plowing as we traveled at a turtle’s pace,
We’d have come in dead last if it were a race.
I felt a great triumph as we slid to a stop,
Then I remembered the tram ride back up to the top.
This time my exit was one filled with grace.
Well actually, I was glad I didn’t land on my face.
The second run, I was the one that led
His hands on my waist, my cheeks blazing red.
The pace picked up but not by a lot.
I was keeping my skis in the position I aught
He had words of encouragement as I zigged down the hill
His quick reaction saved me from a fall or a spill.
The triumph I felt as I finished the run
The snow and the ice could actually be fun.
Back to top for a third go around
I jumped off the lift my skis hit the ground
It was time for this little bird to finally leave the nest
I was going to ski solo just like all the rest
I felt my legs get that deep muscle burn
The edge of my skis made the fresh white snow churn
My confidence grew and I looked all around.
My date was skiing backwards and then turned with a bound,
He pivoted and swerved on one ski then both.
I plowed along at the pace of a sloth.
Then a five-year-old schussed passed me in a blur
Next came a one-legged skier in a jacket of fur
My date’s movements as he skied
by my side
Was freaking ballet, I don’t mean to deride,
I pick up the pace the humiliation growing.
I’m pushing my skills so I’ll make a good showing.
I hit a mogul and I’m catching air
My arms are pin wheeling I look everywhere
I land, then I tumble my ski poles take flight
My glove has come off, my hat lost to sight,
My one ski proceeded me down the snow trail,
In kind skiing terms it’s called a yard sale.
I hobbled my way down the rest of the slope
I felt like an idiot, I looked like a dope.
Can you have fun in the ice and the snow?
Don’t ask me right now I really don’t know.
(Written for the Short Shots Contest on Writing.com. Write a poem inspired by the above picture. 80 lines or less. No I didn't win but I got some good reviews.)
