Alex Raup

Wandering beneath the sky,
pale as milk,
the chill of your hand
grazing my cheek,
I thought I heard you laughing.

The kind of walk
I felt like we'd had
a thousand times
before I knew your name.

You spoke of hot air balloons
and bees
and other things that fly
"...in spite of themselves."
I remember that line best.

That fascinated smile,
uncertain and curious,
as if in awe of how strange
a thing your own mind was.

I fell in love on a rooftop -
dizzy with attention,
silly with booze,
you delivered a friend
but there was no one there
but you.

We met in the cold
but I never wanted for layers
distracted from my senses
by your kind eyes
and marvel.

I wonder if any of it was real.
Were you that enamored with the world
that your distractions carried you away
lost at sea, tumultuous love.
I'd lost you as
soon as I went under.