I keep seeing people I think I know.

And I can’t catalog the awkwardness of the moments.

That slight pause:

Did we part on good terms all those years ago?

I can’t remember everything I said to them

Or them to me.

Is there an unresolved comment,

A pebble in the shoe of time

That memory has enlarged?

Or was there an offered sweetness

That may need an answer?

That hesitation

–split seconds of time—

And I am frozenly undecided.

But I will likely see them again

If it’s who I think it is.

So I’ll pull out the journals,

Sort the emails,

Look for letters,

And be prepared next time.

Or possibly not:

I have a lot of journals.