It didn’t happen today.
Today was perfect and beautiful.
The late sunset’s light made everyone’s face glow.
Julia let the edge of the rope off
last year. Her brother carried the news.
I barely remembered him. His
and her name masked me with smoky pictures;
lying on a dusty torn sofa, smoking cheap weed
and playing chess. Espresso in the dim kitchen. A walk
along the Danube, after which we sat and watched
the city’s light float.
He smiled as he talked and I couldn’t tell
if he was embarrassed but I felt like embracing him
so I can be hugged.
In Serbia we got lost
for three days in the mountains.
David, you and me, who almost lost it
if the two of you wouldn’t held me;
feeding me water, bread and honey.
Later on we met again
on another hill.
Your tall figure showed up surprisingly
from between the low clouds.
We hugged shyly over a little fissure,
recalling distant memories
each to his own.
Then you died.
I mean, sometime between then and now;
the part of the day when clouds are plastered red
and the faces are relaxed and glowing
in the softness of the setting sun.