Pretending we made it
Showing happy faces, trying
Like hell to remember the name
Coming up short
Holding plastic cups full of red wine
With shaking arthritic distorted fingers
Talking story about our youth
At least the stories we still remember
Looking at the sad wrinkled face
Remembering the glorious young girl
We once were madly in love with
Convinced our love would last forever
Loudly reliving that one game
Where we won by a large margin
Commiserating all the games
We lost by a large margin
Comparing the others to ourselves
Are they better off or worse?
Do they look older or younger?
Realizing it doesn’t really matter
The alcohol taking away most of
The inhibitions, pouring out our souls
Sharing intimate unimportant details
To classmates, virtual strangers
Wondering why we got together
In the first place after all these years
Having not much more in common
Than a desk in the same classroom