From James Van Amber

The Reunion

Jack Ridl

The last time I saw them we were young.
Ginny was a cheerleader. Ben was getting
A's in trig. Tonight we glance at nametags.

Around the cheese tray we say, "Of course
I remember you." "Yes, four years ago.
Things are better now." "No, she never
graduated, moved. I don't know where."

We look good. The food is just fine. The music
brings it all back and we dance the latest steps
across our brain's prom floor. It's all the same.

And nothing is. We're still dumb kids, just gray
and tame. If we had to do it again, we'd get it
right. Some are sure they got it right the first

time. They ask for another Manhattan, dry
martini, scotch on the rocks. They glisten
in their tans. They watch the rest of us,

the ones with comb-overs, two divorces,
the ones who look for lower gas prices,
a good night's sleep, group tours.