Nostalgia Quicksand

Nostalgia Quicksand

When the invitation to my
high school reunion
showed up, it seemed a solid
ground:
     Reminisce about 1998!
     Titanic! Savage Garden!
     Great big jeans
     and all that unlived life
     spread out before you! 

Before I knew it, I
was waist-deep in
detailed lists
of all the things I'd do differently
if They'd just let me go back
and have
one
more
chance.
I'd get it right this time.

Then, a rope, a saving thought:
What is twenty-years-from-now
me
wishing I'd do differently
so he wouldn't feel he needs
to parachute in from a time machine
to come back here and fix it all?
Get on that, and don't go
to the reunion.