Photo by PhotoMIX Ltd. from Pexels

The corny black and gold “Class of 2014”

decorations make me angry.

It says it on the napkins,

the plates, the stupid streamers.

People I rarely talked to then

much less five years later

mingle over chips.

It’s a bragfest.

Got a good job.

Got a house.

Got a baby.

Got married.

I like my life.

That’s not the problem.

I search for one familiar face,

one that I actually want to see,

but the people I miss,

I’ll never see again.

Time stretches between us,

an impenetrable distance

without an arbitrary similarity to pull us back.

Poetry

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