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i thought i saw you the other day
from an upstairs window
striding along the sidewalk
across the street.

then i remembered
that you had no reason to be here
of all places, a whole train ride away
from your own suburban universe.

after that
i began seeing you in train stations.

the image of you descending onto the platform,
not even watching your step as you searched
for a pen in the pockets of your coat, was so perfect
it was almost hard to believe
that you weren’t actually there.

i wonder if you know
that i still think about you sometimes,
even though we haven’t spoken
in months.

i wonder if you realize
that i still reread those old e-mails sometimes,
riding again and again the roller coaster
of your poetry, the soaring stanzas,
the leaping words
quietly weeping.

i wonder where you are at this very moment—
are you alone beneath a maple tree,
a tattered paperback open across your knees
or running along a sun-kissed boardwalk
with laughter on your lips,

or perhaps boarding an afternoon train
bound for a twilight world
that i have never seen.