I am here even though you are not,
a shaft of sunshine warms the chair where
you usually sit drinking your coffee,
ghosts haunt this town, the Austrian
isn’t sitting at the bar like he should be,
his smile frozen until I walk in the door,
neighbors are no longer neighbors
although they still have the same names,
carriages are filled with others children,
the poet writes in Vermont
no longer huddles in his down jacket; he has
retired to a warmer climate, my professor
is long in the grave.
What to do but warm myself in the sun
where you sat and drink a coffee,
immersing myself in a good book
that you recommended.
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