Playing with Fire

I remember the initial gratitude
Surrounding a time when the light of amity
Permeated the murk that was my psyche
And how it held fast through
Profound debates over tea
Doleful venting over meatball wedges
And indiscriminate chop-busting at all times

I remember the diverse soundtrack
To a time when problems were mulled over
With a ball and racquet
A time when befuddled strangers
Pilfered Polish pastries
And shameless jaunts all over creation
Were essentially commonplace

I remember the perverse disregard
Of a time when vacuum cleaner advice
Wasn’t at all hard to come by
A time when a nickel and a grand
Were roughly the same thing
And screen names ended in numbers
That immortalized purchases

I remember the grave sentiment
Behind a time when a deceased car
Inspired the re-writing of funeral hymns
A time when the tangy aroma of cigars
Seasoned the upholstery
And speech impediments
Were fodder for too many laughs

I remember the theatrical pretense
Coloring a time when actuality
Was replaced with credible fantasy
A time when fishing and drowning
Meant a successful evening
And ludicrous pseudonyms
Made proper nouns more chic

But the one thing I don’t remember
Is how it all managed to slip away