We meet up early from afar,
eager beavers that we all are.
Patted shoulders tell me how,
we're stouter than the boys we were.

Squashed together in our booth,
the food is just an incidental course.
It's wine is what we need to spill
the gibberish across our bowls.

And did you watch that film? The one
with whatshisname who's married to
the one from ... our phones can rescue
all the many names we can't recall.

All too soon we're done. The catching up
complete, we float back through the
empty streets. Our separate ways are lit,
by some small flame that we have shared.

At home you ask about their wives
and other things about their lives.
I don't have anything to share. To which
you rightly ask; were you really even there?