to Brian Ponte

Ten years ago;
A time when we thought ourselves as older
Even though we sought our image
In the mirrors of others, no matter how unclear.

We sit here now, with bourbon, reminiscing,
Laughing over the quirks our friends would exploit,
The music we deemed tolerable,
And the thoughts we put opinions into,

Unable to escape the women we dared desire—
The risks of an "I love you,"
How our words fell short.

"Had we known what we do now," we claim.
Had we known that a dream survives poison.