Someone found me yesterday
I was the one who had sent a letter at Christmas to his father
Year after year
His father died in 2002
But I sent my greetings not knowing
That the man who had married my aunt had been buried at sixty

Merry Christmas I said every year to the Hindi man
Who had smiled a wide smile many years past
“Baby Duck is just water” as he filled up the glass

He couldn’t find me on Facebook couldn’t find me online
But he carried a folder with received letters and photos
The address was there; maybe she was here?

This man from the east
Stopped people on the street
Showed them my photo as he got nearer and nearer

Have you seen this woman?
He asked two different people
Because my address confused — a place and a way and a wynd

They looked at him — elegant garments, gemstones set in golden rings, and an iPhone for each hand
They said they’d never seen clothes such as these
Where are you from?

This man is from India
He brought me overly generous gifts in multitudes of three
And we talked until nearly midnight

At midnight there were signs in the sky
Fireworks to mark the day of a different kind of birth
He apologized for not telling me the news of the death
He wanted the letters to arrive uninterrupted
The letters that said Merry Christmas to the Hindi man
Year after year