If I begin to tremble,
I know you're just right.

Aware both of the autumn at my throat
and of your impossibly bright teeth
I turn owlishly as you pass
and am thrown off my orbit
by the gravity of your curls.

Knowing I will never see you again,
I watch you like a red balloon
stealing swift into the blue
far beyond the limit of eyesight

and I am overcome with the terrible desire
to weep and to laugh
and to know your middle name.