2 a.m., guests dispersing, Beth & I
creep to the wings of the American
Legion Hall, surveying our options
for late night snacking. There’s never
much time to eat during these things.
I’m skinny as a starlet with smaller
boobs, white dress slack across
my flat white stomach. We are
very young, we are very lovely.
Stealthy, we head through back
rooms to the kitchen. Our grooms
haven’t missed us & we’re sure
they wouldn’t mind our grabbing
a treat. Standing at the counter,
we cram our faces with left-over
cake & pages from the guest book
Beth’s smuggled in her capacious
cleavage. She eats names rapaciously
as I look on: the Serial Prep School
Expellee, the Aged Coquette, the Young
Book Lover, & Gulf War Part II Vets 1-3.
She passes me a fistful: the 21-Year-Old
Dead in a Month From Cancer,
the Indian Dancer, the Victim Artist
Cashing in on Her Rape. We split
the Gay Actor in Town From LA
& the Bi College Roommate, plus
Priestly Great-Uncles. Beth is just 22.
I am 25. Together we’ve become old
married ladies, though we still feel
we haven’t left childhood behind.
Between slices slathered with butter
cream I describe: in Renaissance Venice,
adolescence lasted until you were 27.
Isn’t that fine? she replies, licking
her slender fingers. Now eat this
next page & wash it down with champagne.
The Texan In-Laws, the Team of Croatians,
the Divorced Brother-in-Law & the Jewish
Girlfriend. The Undercover Vegan.
Little Sister Megan & her Boyfriend
Kevin. The Fleet of Nebraskans.
We’re both so hungry we could go
on all night biting. Catholic Aunts
& Assorted Rednecks. White Trash
Relatives & Bluestocking Scholars.
The If I Had a Dollar For Every
Timers. They taste like paper, like love,
like fate. Fellow Grad School Rhymers,
The Cousin We’re Sure Should’ve
Become a Nun. Haven’t Seen You
Since High School & His Cute Date
What’s Her Face. They can no more
escape their futures than we can ours.
We’re almost full. We’re almost done.
The lights flip off & on once, then twice.
The adults are trying to tell us it’s time
to be quiet. Time to move on.