class photo – 50th reunion
You will probably never see any
of these people in person again,
only representations on a screen
and it breaks your heart.
Most of your class is absent by choice
or circumstance or Facebook grudges.
You wonder if anyone else’s
heart aches at this.
You wonder why you’re so different,
if you’re different at all.
You romanticize things: a place, a time,
your hometown, then are disappointed
that your classmates have grown old
in predictable ways, that accommodations
have been made for age:
cash bar, lighting never dimmed
soft music not too loud.
What did you think would happen?
Ghosts of those we’ve left behind
to time, disease, and suicide
sit perched upon a shrouded tablecloth
long haired and smiling in eternal high
school revery at our awkward fumbling
to connect.
You’re on best behavior
choosing not to talk politics,
so, you don’t talk about anything
beyond family, sports, retirement.
You watch yourself watch yourself
interact with shades of time and memory
like barbershop mirrors reflecting
infinite versions of your many selves.
You say hi to old friend Rose
who squints to read your nametag.
You can tell she doesn’t remember,
how the hell can that be?
Something like sympathy –
this feeling the world has turned
upside down as we cling to
what was familiar, now sadly dated.
Part of you sits in Mr. Starrs’ English class
wondering if poems can make you cool.
Turns out they don’t (maybe a little?),
but they do remember
what you forgot to forget,
and maybe that’s enough.
The jocks tell stories of past glories
over Coors Lights while you drink scotch,
much to the amusement of all,
still the rebel of our pathologically
unambitious working-class town.
Then again, we have showed up,
despite our imperfect bodies
stiff with pride, (some soft with comfort)
we gather as survivors
with bad hair and a hint of grace.
Out of last chances, we breathe,
we laugh, lonely in our search
to connect for a single wistful day.
Last year (2025) was a busy year for Danny Shot with two books published: a collection of poems, The Jersey Slide in November by CavanKerry Press and his prose, collected in Night Bird Flying in February by Roadside Press. 2026 finds Danny marching in the streets and channeling Bertolt Brecht on the page. WORKS was published in 2018 by CavanKerry Press. Danny is Poet in Residence at the Hoboken Museum. Danny Shot was the longtime publisher
and editor of Long Shot arts and literary magazine, which he founded along with Eliot Katz in 1982 in New Brunswick, NJ. More information can be found on his website: dannyshot.com
