Penance, Or a Dead Man Is Returned To His Class Reunion

How could I have gotten here, tiki torches and smiley faces, men crowing like roosters, drinking their beer, busy once more reclaiming their places? Women eye each other and hiss, she’s not the cheerleader of yore, those extra pounds on our little miss, have cost her a spot in schoolgirl lore. Deejay, cue up “Glory Days,” as the athletes bray and replay the game, kings of the school, they basked in its praise, those were the times of their fleeting fame. And there’s the class clown, still telling his jokes and slapping backs, to hear him yammer just brings us down, executioner kindly lend us your axe, The king and queen of the prom, older and grayer still preen, exude stately calm, their royal presence serene. The class bully has entered the room, but now nobody quakes, his wife sealed his doom, one frown and he shakes. The girl of my dreams, third cocktail in hand, comes apart at the seams, how long can she stand? I’ve told myself that an upside of death is that of events like this I could stay clear, but now I cower and hold my breath, hoping that no one comes near. Oh, spirits, I promise to be good, being dead isn’t so bad after all, from now on I’ll do as I should, just rescue me please from this ball.