I'm sitting on a bench
at the foot of the Eiffel Tower
thankful I'm on terra firma,
watching white circles from my Winston
float in summer's azure sky,
when an immaculately dressed guy -
in a white Italian designer suit, shirt, and tie,
with shiny coal-black hair,
strides towards me and gives a bear hug.
It's Easy Eddy, a former alma mater classmate!
The stunning auburn beauty beside him
he introduces as his wife. I don't remember
Betty being quite so tall and curvaceous,
and wasn't she a brunette?
If it is Betty, she's been swimming
In The Fountain of Youth.
But getting back to Easy Eddy,
I knew he would be a success -
married the boss' daughter.
In twenty minutes,
we traversed twenty years
of nostalgic minutiae -
names and faces of former classmates
who Father Time had erased from memory
though my head kept nodding
like the second hand on a watch.
No kids. Figures. Would have cramped his style!
Finally, said they had to go -
had tickets for an opera featuring
a famous French diva.
Easy Eddy always had a touch of class.
People brush against each other
once in a lifetime, never meet again
in between or afterwards.
What's it all about?