day 10 old friend

Old friend

I am perching
on the arm of a chair
to see the road
scanning each car
will it slow, will I recognize
hair, face, gesture.

Across the city
her car is jammed
to the tail of another,
inching down
the flyover, past
the evening post clock.

I am expecting
awkwardness, more aggro
from the kids, I had to march
out of the art gallery this afternoon,
past 6 now, I ring
half hoping she’ll cancel.

In a moment she’ll be here
the kids have climbed on the wall
to wave, she’ll drive us back to meet
her family and we’ll talk
as if 20 years never passed
or we grew in step
without knowing.