Then and Now

Then:

She sits on the hood

of his car, a 1938 Packard

owned by his funeral parlor

father. Unsmiling, she looks

what people call saucy,

an attitude that promoted

her to hood ornament.

Now:

She stopped going

to class reunions when

numbers dwindled

to insufficient to make

a class reunion.

Fifty became forty

became twenty-seven

became sixteen became

eight became two,

the two who never

liked each other but

they’d mourn each other

anyway.

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