There was a time-lapse,

Fifty years, actually.

All that had happened,

All that was experienced,

All the joy and sorrow,

All the trial and tribulation,

All the unnecessary frustration,

All the really, real, actual

Tragedy that so many

Have experienced by that age,

And then, for all that, denied

Or ignored, they sat and

Swallowed as they watched

Cheerleaders get up out of their

Seats, raise their sixty-eight

Year-old derrieres into the

Air along with their noses

And cheer. It was as if they

Had a rod up their butts to the top

Of their quaffed locks past their

Pinched pusses. Their dinner table

Had a “Do Not Dare to Touch”

In the averting, condescending

“You’ll never catch me even

Bothering to look at you” eyes

Of every single one. They only

Had laughing, smirking eyes for

Each other.  Which ones had

Had the obligatory facelift? Perhaps

All for all seemed equally pinched.

After all the years, unfortunately,

Almost tragically, if such banality

Can even come close to tragedy.

Actually, upon reflection, tragedy

Is way too lofty of a consideration

For this. Perhaps just unfortunat-

Ely. Unfortunately, it was still all

About looks, posturing and

Pom-poms. And that was the

Essence of the fiftieth reunion,

Almost like those fifty years

Hadn’t happened, all that

Significant stuff got lost for a little

While, and it was simply sad for

Those who swallowed and watched

And got sucked back into their pimply

Past and unnecessarily felt a bit

Diminished except for where a couple

Of really good, old, lost buddies

Reconnected at the bar over a long

Pour martini, one gin and the other

Vodka and maybe that made the

Whole damn weekend worth-

While, maybe, just maybe, but just

Maybe.