not since the last bent back wiry haired crone moved from his stone stoop
have I stopped loving you
as the endless paradigms
spun and fell upon the sidewalks
clink clack
so much for that
we drew our own footprints
anyway
walking back upon a cold autumn day
and wrinkling the browning chiding leaves
which crisp crisp beneath scuffed shoes
as the jingling jangling jealous lovers
lock lips
securing the fact
that they are far superior to you
and your bare shoulders
naked of loving embraces
and faces
empty
but for the pandering want
which whispers every night
for lack of anything better to do
not since the days
of raging hormones
pheromones
and hidden moans
have they felt the warmth
so they substantiate
with the “grown-up”
one-night stands
played to a three person band
clarinet
triangle
kazoo
for the love of noise
poised to annoy
those in peace
I am silent
to those whose lips are forever in silent kisses
unable to speak
but for thoughts that fall
into those cracks in the pavement
only to spring forth
like weeds
unplanned
unkempt
to glean
from the passers by
afflictions of the heart
sweet musings
the soggy dregs of unsweetened tea
in a city of leaves lovers and scented candles
I aspire to be their Icarus
certainly he burned to a crisp
with singed cloth
and melting pulp of skin
but there must have been a moment
where he was
luminous
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