old friends

Sleaze drips from his sleeve
where his heart used to be
his body wide with arrogance
removing all traces of who he was
back when he wore his crazy with humility
and conversation didn’t come with a price tag
or offers that left my skin crawling
like I’d just been asked to prostitute myself
for information

We can’t see the ground when we’re looking at the sky
and I might have forgotten what the stars look like
but I still know they’re there
all too aware of the earth beneath my feet

He said
“you’re looking good”
fooled by my smile and the new height
I wear from small fought battles
that keep getting me out of bed in the morning
and all the answers to the status quo questions
slip from my tongue as lies
because social niceties trump honesty
in the face of old friends
who aren’t who they used to be

No one remembers us for who we are
they remember us for who we used to be
and I’m still enough of who I was
that the light dims in the presence of those
who remind me of where I’ve come from
when the currencies I traded in
weren’t silence or money

Sleaze drips from his sleeve
where his heart used to be
and I’ve given up chasing ghosts
looking for reflections of faces that don’t exist anymore
his scribbled number on the coffee ringed napkin
slipping from my grasp
into the rain soaked street
to be washed away just like the minutes yesterday

© Indie Adams 2013