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Hard Sell

A Philip Marlowe lookalike
watches from a cloud of smoke
in the corner of the room.

He reminds you of her.

Your memory fills with the names
of your other classmates from second grade

some of whom - including a few boys -
auditioned for the part of the Wicked Witch
and went through several rehearsals
before dropping out of sight.

Back then schools were seldom let out early.

Lunchboxes held out for more.

You try to recall your last conversation
but fail.

It was a hard sell from the get go.
This you remember.

Meanwhile
outside
schoolbuses clog the main arteries
choked with snow.