Compulsories

When after a short absence, in the time

it takes to apprehend how different

we both have become, I forget if I'm

the one supposed to start the argument.

Like any ritual, we have to do

a few compulsories, like figure eights

or an axel. I can't remember who

begins. Aren't you the one who always waits

for innuendo, or am I the one

who finds the irony in everything?

I guess we should get on with it. We've done

this dance more times than needs belaboring.

And so we only stare at one another,

each wondering if it was worth the bother.