the view was nice up there
on the hill, near the pond
our little town in all its
“splendor”

we could see everything

my house had the big tree–
the one that, two years later,
would fall and crush my dad’s
Mustang

your house had the pool
the kids in the neighborhood
knew your mom
always baked  
cookies from scratch

my little sister cried 
when we said she couldn’t come,
but the view was nice–
worth it

you and me,
billowy clouds,
insistent and direct
sun

you said you liked me
more than a friend
you liked me

i laughed,
thought it was a joke

you laughed–
of course it was 

we should go bike riding
you said
you would meet me later
and we would pin 
baseball cards into
the spokes
and pretend
we had motorcycles

but i didn’t see you again 
that day
and when i did see you again,
it was different–
as if my best friend
had been replaced by an
almost exact duplicate

that was, of course, a
long time ago
i’ve got my own kids now
and so do you
i think you are in Missouri,
maybe Kansas

i still think about the two of you often–
the one who sat on the hill with me,
counting clouds,
and the one who always came 
in your place, after–
and i wonder