A kiss, a hug like we’re old friends,
seemingly always in each others’ lives,
if not as centrally as once we were.
But we move apart and you talk to everyone
– like you used to do –
I smile and effervesce with a few
I look at you
You look at me – only a fraction of a moment
the tiniest glance
But I see you seeing me
and you see me watching you too.
– a smaller gathering.
We sit in a comfortable circle,
“Still a sleazy old man,” you wink after some appalling joke.
“You lived along here too,” you say
as if you might only just remember.
“You were too young for that,” you nudge.
And I smile and say little now,
just a fringe dweller of this crew.
You all remember old times, before me.
But as you talk
and you recall all these trivial, jovial events
from years long gone I realise – for the first time –
that you remember being with me
As clearly as I remember being with you.
I know now why we don’t talk together for long
or admit to much more than a passing acquaintance
– a long time, yes –
but only through these other people,
Only ever loosely connected.
We never admit to past intimacies
but your wink,
the things left unsaid between private glances,
tell it all to anyone who cares to look.
(Images courtesy Google images)