On a gray, rainy Saturday, the speaker is alone after a dinner party and finds himself thinking about a friendship that has faded. He remembers shared rituals: oatmeal breakfasts, a street reading, filming near a waterfall, coffee and cigarettes at the Red Cup with other poets, and long talks where the two of them felt truly connected. Now that closeness feels "disjointed," and the poem hints at an abandonment, though it never says what happened.
The speaker insists the memory isn't painful. He compares it to a reflection in a pool of time, something pleasant to look at now and then. Yet the refrain, "I wonder if you miss those moments too," keeps returning, and it suggests he cares more than he admits. The mood is quiet, nostalgic and gently wistful. The ending leaves a small door open: he hopes they might talk again, but accepts he may never know whether his friend ever wonders too.