A little distance; a little wine

It's been 9 months

so I'm sure you'll understand that I'm nervous

about our meeting again

walking in, the first wine is free

gleeful recognitions; sporadic catch-ups

brownian motions from squab to table to couch to standing cluster

suddenly i remember your name

and how to talk shop

there is a moment

and we count:

half ex, half current

yet we're all here for this

at an evening's notice diverse strands

become a black humoured-crew

Council psych unit ITO tertiary training management:

we're all a hell of a lot better off

doing what we wanted

being paid for our skills

and everywhere the sense of festivity

camaraderie 

now the swearing, now the stories, now the honesty 

comes out

away from Them,

the hench-like controls

and petty snipes

with vaguely veiled mass emails

we are now gloriously rejoicing; now sympathetic support group

once we nodded or greeted in the halls

huddled, if we could, for spare moments of sanity

now we hug and kiss hello

real affection

assurances your new life is better

and the promise of email exchanges

you can't circle the drain so close

when

fraternity holds you together

so I leave, wine hugs promises later

buoyed up and sated

remembering the comfy smell of smokes

saunter home in a fast food haze and realise

I've left a kind of love, but

I've gained a kind of confidence

on the curb i say "thank you!" three times to 

no one in particular

in my drunkenness I think

I can do this life thing

and the person I've become is ok

almost valuable, in a way

I love how these reunions

force us to remember

fuck it's good to be alive