he chunky one got skinny.
The macho one got fat.
The foreign one got rid of his accent.
The ditzy one went to grad school.
The ugly one got contacts.
The funny one went into rehab.
The deformed one had a shitload of plastic surgery but he looks worse. Life is life after all. And the one with braces, he got them out. They don’t call him Mikey anymore. He goes by Michael.
Things change. The pirate ship sunk, all the money was spent, and in the end those glorious houses of our youth were torn down to make way for condominiums. You can’t stop the bulldozers with good vibes and a handful of fake-looking gemstones. We all have our time. Nothing stays the same. Not even if you really want it to. Not even if you wish and hope and pray. It’s there and then it’s gone. You only know when you go looking for it.
They don’t talk so much anymore. There’s no Facebook group. Nobody goes home except at Christmas. They say there’s going to be a reunion soon. They’ll order Godfather’s pizza. They’ll talk about how good it is to see everyone. Hey you guys, let’s do this again. And maybe they will. But probably not. Probably not. Things’ll never be that good again. You just can’t keep going on adventures once they stop calling you Mikey.
Remember when you were a minipop, and you saw that film, you know, the one you loved that never had a sequel? Well, let's say it did. And it was just like you imagined it, only a little bit worse.