The last time I saw you
was in 2011

You tousled my son's hair
cupped my daughter's chin
in front of the museum
You met me
in your black business suit
as the thick heat
of New York City
coated us

Your grandchildren stared at you,
smiled in shy half-moons
before my mom
took them home.
Then,
just you and I.

We sat for a cold moment
in the restaurant.
I longed for
something more personal
than a swank Upper West Side
joint, and ate nothing
Only water could
slide down
my throat,
and words stuck there

I was thirsty
for the you I had known
A big bear hug
dancing in the living room
to Olivia Newton-John
How you swung me around
and we laughed, my hair flying

I was thirsty
for our secret language
created one summer
for our silly jokes
in restaurants,
people-watching
on Second Avenue
the 80s punks in
East European diners
eating potato perogin
after their long night out

You disappeared on me
             and then
after she, my sweetest star,
got sick
you reappeared
calling me every day
to check up on the flowers
in your garden
How you came back
to water it
in your own way

and now
I am only waiting to
cross the oceans,
fly straight into
your arms,
enfold your once-infinite
bear hug invincibility
into my fragile
heart