My friends in India
the old fellow who gave me money for the train
after I’d been robbed
in Spain
the girl I bunked with in Mexico City
who cut off all her hair
and mailed it home
so many of you
sparks of intoxicating connection
nestled in my life
so big and real
and then gone
how I wish I had thought
to ask each of you
to look at the moon
on a September day
and I would too
and for that moment
once a year
we would be back there
the bloom
of opening up
to another.