Memory kitchen

There they sat smoking.
Wanting to talk over old times.
Not having the courage.
Ashtrays filled as the restaurant next door did.
Tabacco smoke and stew aromas.
My best friends arrived preoccupied.
They went out the door as if a trap had been set.
I made a quick awkward comparison about one of the guys...
How he´d changed.
At first that warm bobbing laughter woke the dull room.
That soon died and quiet discomfort took over,
as I attempted to explain myself.
I tried to bum a cigarrete and get out to see my best friends.
The one I went for had been half smoked and lacked a filter,
much like my adult life.
I got out the door to see a broad field sloping down to willows.
I started walking towards what I thought was their laughter.
Suddenly another friend banged into me purposely,
With his two blonde princesses, he urgently looked for signs of envy,
trying not to brag between his grin and chin.
They were charming but not my idea of splendour.
Their dark blue eyes with about 2% indigenous blood
really excited him.
I guess my mind cooked this dream from a batch
of the memory kitchen´s finest moments.