bonds

god I loved those people those
crazy actor types afire with passion
and talent and hormones. Barely
old enough to buy liquor, we screamed
and laughed our way through that year,
insanely in love with ourselves and one
another and the idea that we built
between us that this whirlwind would
blow forever.

It didn't. We graduated, and left or
stayed. We went on, our lives
unwinding, carrying those memories
away behind us. I read my journals now
and the girl I was becomes less
and less familiar.

And when I ran into you last week
outside the Starbucks, you seemed
altogether different, taller somehow, less
embraceable, although perhaps it was me
who'd changed too much to even call up
the ghost of that camraderie. Our small
talk was painful. I made excuses to go.
When I looked back you were buying
a latte.

I hope you still sing along to Rent.
I hope that you found time to write
that play you always talked about, the
one with the two sisters and Coyote. I hope
that my memories are faded, and not
brighter than the times
I imagine they recall.