The Lost Butterfly

When I was 19

There were few places I’d rather be

Than on a college rooftop at two in the morning

Sucking down Camels

While the first frost bit our noses.

I’ve seen her since that night:

Black strapless dress,

Hair a bit longer than it was then,

Head cocked to one side,

Her top teeth shining through peach lipstick,

A much more attractive female by her side

Looking more like a cardboard cutout,

But the eye naturally draws itself

Back to her.