Jason Ridpath's poem is about being abandoned without explanation after an intense, dreamlike connection. The speaker remembers a night, apparently in June, when two people lay close together, a hand on a chest, heads side by side, staring at the moon. In memory it feels timeless. The made-up month "Julember" blending into 1965 suggests the couple stepped outside normal time, and the speaker never wanted it to end.
Against that tenderness, the opening line hits like a verdict: "Ghosted by you in Toulouse." The speaker keeps returning to it, circling the hurt. The ending shifts to a rueful, almost joking tone. The speaker "never did get the news" that the other person "wasn't really into dudes," and offers that as the reason for the silence. The casual slang covers real pain, and the rhyme of "Toulouse" with "lose" and "dudes" gives the ending a sing-song bitterness. The mood is wistful and nostalgic, with self-mockery to soften the sting of longing.