we contract and expand in
anticipation of autumn
when fibers will frequent my skin.
as i step over the sludge of summer rain on concrete,
my fingers grip and release. i well up with
the scent of cotton, the compression of wild wind.
crunch and stomp the
slate grey light that sifts down over stone.
autumn brings me home to
duffy boats over a lonely ocean,
drinking wine from a thermos,
sweet chai lattes, nat shermans, white sails, rough rope &
peanut butter pancakes sprinkled
with chocolate chips.
i remember everything:
the words you spoke as i sighed against your neck
and the weight of my hands in yours.
the salt on your eyelashes, waxiness of the sea in my hair.
the day i, a clumsy fledgling bird, flapped away
from your affection (not the first time
opportunity lost its way),
my awkward movements, switching gears in your
father's stick shift.
your voice soothed me in that tiny parking lot.
guided me around curves and beckoned me to you.
overexposure at its most magnificent.
your bravery & indifference foiled my flighty fear
as you slid past locked gates and glanced
over your left shoulder.
i'm coming.
you release me and we parade through bright night.
wires, metal, & dirt all riveting in their
rusted contentedness, only disturbed by
our delinquent footsteps.
i gaze at your figure through a viewfinder
and click.
awful november, come around soon.
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