Poem: That Friend of Yours

That Friend of Yours

I never felt the need to apologize
to some kid about my music
that boy with the new license and the old car
who told tales, raucous reports
of late places on the right nights
in the capital city
with a squad of strangers
on the prime drugs
to dance and whirl with ecstasy
I never felt the need

But decades later
it still sticks in my craw
hides in my mind
the pained look he gave me
for my uncool taste in music
the glare he proffered to you
a silent, “Dude, really?” to turn you
against me as he left the room
that night he stayed with us
visiting from out of town

I must have known then
in that one moment
you and I would not last
I had failed a certain test
I never saw him again
and you not long after
I played that CD last week
and it all came spinning around
and after all this time
I won’t apologize

© 2016 Eileen Ridge