It's been ten years
since our Potbelly lunch
and eleven
since we shared a summer
as camp counselors
in northern Wisconsin
easily the worst of my life
but when I saw you
at the Second City
your name came back
with surprising alacrity
and I hope you understood
with my smile and
brief touch of your shoulder
that I saw you
and maintain some affection
for our brief connection
but I had no desire
to stop and reminisce
about those awful months
spent on that ugly lake front
surrounded by rich boys
and their perverse petulance.
Or perhaps
I did not want to be reminded of who I was then-
Sick, alone, and twenty-one.
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