Fourteen years is too long time to say “I want my family back. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I want to reunite to the band”. You know, when you started getting invited to your fourteen year lost high school reunion, time is catching up.
Battling long lounge hours before the six-hour delayed flight finally covered the hundred miles, scent of reminiscences flushed through the fluorine streets. I knew them…I’m on my way to the reunion.
Oh, just until the reunion. This seems to be your day for renewing old... acquaintances. It was memory full of good times as I was recalling the pretty yearbook pictures so everybody I could recognize in the crowd. (lol) Sweet nothing and taste of ol’ times that’s’ what you take back when leave the reunion today. (Huh) Take a good look again!
Well, we’d excuses and apologies. For a while, I thought the whole point of going to the reunion was to impress people. I mean, how am I gonna impress ANYBODY by selling ban-lon smocks at Bargain Mart? Or sound, just another corporate big shot planning world conquest! Welcome to the magical world of reality.
The ashen faces from the pretty yearbook pictures changed. You don't want to go to the school reunion because everyone is gonna remember you were a...My friends have changed. We all have changed.
No more maroon pullovers over the silver tunics I am now among housewives with kids from convents and corporate husbands, oh-so-convert Buddhist missionary practicing Chinese Zen, corporate cowboys out there ripping off millions of dollars, a womanizer, a drunkard, a self-inflicted Juliet, a grieved but true painter (though lost). The portrait is changing.
Well, not all are that moron but even a sneak peak to their private after we’ve grown up is worthy. These are like, uh, different colors on a painter's palette. We all are separated to be reunited by friendship again.
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