Complimentary Drinks and Heavy Appetizers

Last night I went into Boston
and drove by the event center
where she had one of her shows.
Doing so stirred aging feelings,
mostly dread.

An appreciation event put on by
the company I sometimes work for
counseling people in the wake of something awful
held in the Grand Alcove of the Ritz-Carlton.
I polished my shoes and wore a tie that matched my shirt.

A nice spread of serve-yourself-appetizers and two drink tickets,
my hand trembling while cutting the gorgonzola. I don't really network.
But soon I was talking with a lady I'd never seen before, work mostly -
people and jobs we knew in common, the brokenness of things.
She was smart, fiery and beautiful.

She joked early on that I must have started working at 15,
suggesting that I didn't look as old as I am, and then again
later, in another joke, said I wasn't too hard on the eyes.
She's married, mostly happily, with three boys. I said I'd walk
her to her parking garage after which was just ten feet feet away.

We laughed, shook hands, did not exchange numbers,
and now I cannot even remember her name.
But she allowed me to forget the event and other things too
for awhile. I left that place feeling like I almost belonged,
well nourished and mildly intoxicated.