Reunion

Looking at the faces

The places on the wall,

At the people milling

Here and there,

A few only

Shells of themselves

Most whales

Of themselves,

Reunion

On a hot August day,

Walking around an easel

And there she was,

She hadn’t changed much

If at all,

Is he her second

Or her third,

Of course the hellos,

How are you, etc. etc.,

I couldn’t help

 But wonder

If women remember

Their first time

As vividly as men do.