Yesterday I looked up from the stained sidewalk to see your reflection in Macy’s downtown window, your red hooded wool cape tightly closed at the neck, your long brown hair peeking out. I spun around, hoping to catch you, hoping you’d catch me.

I guess I didn’t turn quickly enough. You were gone, replaced by a group of tourists gawking and mumbling about transient matters, not noticing the bewildered man in their midst.

Crossing the Third Avenue bridge, I saw you in a cab by yourself. You looked into my eyes as you passed, then turned away without a smile. Was that really you? Tell me that wasn’t you turning away.

In the park I saw you helping a little girl fly her kite higher and higher. I rushed to say I was sorry; I touched a shoulder that wasn’t yours. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I effused as I backpedaled with my head down.

Last night without thinking I cooked grilled cheese just the way you liked, chopping fresh basil into a pool of olive oil, pressing it into the tomato slices before rolling it in grated cheese. You would mash it all up on the plate, and eat it with a fork and hug yourself between each bite.

The leaves turned yellow and crimson on the Jersey Shore last weekend. I went down to spend a couple of days with Audrey. Remember how she used to flirt with me when the three of us were together? You’d feign jealousy, knowing all the while I never noticed anyone but you. She flirted with me again. I quickly looked for you to admonish me, but you weren’t there. Maybe I flirted back.

The snow will fall soon. Audrey has already asked me to go with her to Stowe. We used to go there, you and I, for long weekends. Sometimes we never made it to the slopes to ski. In front of the fireplace, you’d play your guitar, singing silly love songs while I kissed your neck and rubbed your shoulders.

I lie awake at night remembering how we’d fall asleep entangled in each other, our legs twisting, arms roaming, fingers exploring for the best place to rest. Our breath and hearts synchronizing, tongues darting in and out, licking the other’s face. Always we tried to climb inside the other to be safe, to be held, to be loved.

Some days go by and I have moments when I don’t think about you, but they are so very few. Where ever you are, I send my love.

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