REUNION
There’s always a way back
so long as the salt
thrown down as you left
leaves enough footprints
from those who swear
they didn’t throw you out,
no evidence
on the matchbook
by the seared scaffold.
Of course they meet you
right at the original
scene of judgment.
Better to proclaim
you haven’t changed at all,
say you still belong.
There’s some kind of noun
for you if you stay,
some kind of verb behind it.
Adjectives are muttered
just within earshot,
angry again.
Leave first, even if not told
by hosts with nothing to do,
but make sure you’re gone.