Robin Amy Bass


Every year the invitation comes
And I read it through
I think, “Should I go this time?”
Find out who is who.

Will they recognize my name?
See who’ve I become.
There were two or three I liked,
OK… maybe just one

Then I think about the times
Those kids made me cry
How I thought, “I don’t fit in”
How I lived a lie

How I spent my teen age years
trying to be cool
How it changed my attitude
When I think of school

I hope Mary Anne is fat
I hope Chuck is bald
I remember all the names
Insults I was called

I throw my invite away
Out with other trash
I have healed enough to know
I don’t need whip lash

I will go to work instead
In my mind it’s clear
I’ve moved past those memories
Well, at least until next year