ask her about Brooklyn in 2007,
when the world was walking in dirty shoes,
but the blues hadn't sunk into soul yet.
sure, 9/11 had happened, but we were young
and dumb and selfish and removed,
not yet old enough to feel or heal,
just ending adolescence and being obnoxious.
I wreaked of booze, slinging pastries
to promising professionals
while taking love for granted
wondering what the future held in store.
now, we've come full circle
with beard and better stories,
but the same old silly regrets
to pin to our parties for clergy to kiss.
offer the other some guacamole,
and keep it moving, just like life,
nothing but small talk with important people
who assume you have something in common.
the only thing we share is time,
and that one day we are going to die,
so the actress in me does long division
and politely declines.