What I Took Away from the Reunion

Well,

I tried to be there,

I even stepped out of the car,

Felt familiar night air,

Now a bit foreign though,

But easy enough to recognize,

Crowded around the front,

I saw you with your son,

Just as you said he looked,

Cute in a little man's suit,

And the words off your lips,

Something of giving your best,

Living to some paramount,

And passing it on like it wasn't a curse.

I'm sorry I couldn't come inside,

I spent the evening in a heated seat,

Bent over the wheel,

Remembering what we said,

And what we did,

Or better still didn't,

I'm the last person I could imagine to call you out,

But the look in your boy's eyes,

Do you know what you're doing?

I guess we're becoming parents.

I still have a photo of mine,

All bent and torn and like it should be,

I think I'll catch a sooner flight out,

After I get a bit gassed and tell you this,

And then I'll sit him down on my lap,

He's still young enough for that,

Like yours,

And I'll try my best to explain,

Why a lot of people seem like paper,

And don't make much sense,

And that'll probably make me a bad parent.