The Junior Partner

The air in the hall is thick with the scent

of mothballs and candy and time that was spent.

The woman beside me leans in for a chat,

adjusting the brim of a polyester hat.

She asks if my grandpa is waiting outside,

with a look that is patient and a little bit wide.

I’m thirty-four years but a child in this row,

with sixty years left of the mountain to go.