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?

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