lunch

they sit -
grey, cold, worn, wrinkled
they reminisce -
"surely, surely, dear
times have changed."

i wanted to wrap their memories
up in a scrap of napkin
tuck in my pocket
all the years of - well, everything
they've been through.

and sometimes she can't remember her own name.

please tell me, somewhere,
this is okay?

because something about that day

well, it haunts me.