I’m the old schoolfriend
swooping out of the sky
like a Halloween witch
in my Hollywood shades
and my stretchable wig
and a girdle of groans.
Since we shrieked our goodbyes
in a shower of rice
my babies have grown beards
been jailed and divorced.
My husband the broker
embezzled, absconded,
is living abroad with
a kennel of bitches.
I remember your dad
who fondled our bottoms
your mom with her bottle
she hid in the sofa.
My god, they were younger
by decades than we are
crossing into the dusk
of this terminal bar.