The gray squirrel bawls a raspy convulsion in a 3 second loop.
Dead oak leaves fall upon dead maple leaves in piles shaped like prehistoric continents – almost connecting an entire dead world.
In a dream last night, sink holes kept opening up on the road and I could do nothing to help others until I made myself safe.
The fireplaces are not in use yet, but burning leaves hang an ancestry in the air at night like a garland of bon voyage. October welcoming goodbye.
So Persephone naps.
For lunch, a chilled lentil salad with balsamic vinegar and lemon water.
I procrastinate a shower because even the thought of being cold and naked evokes shockwaves up my spine and down my limbs.
He takes one first so I jump in after.
The circumference of sunlight throughout the forest broadens.
And my freckles are still visible, especially against white shower walls.
Maybe I've always been an object, best used by hungry men. That's not true, of course. But maybe.
Wildflowers and Free Falling and Las Vegas and Puerto Rico and you don't know how it feels – now you are October.
Light as a refugee; the painted forest falls.
Another glass of wine or whiskey, if you please. Kiss me, I'm Irish, so keep the “e.”
Camel and caramel and carmine colored proof of letting go. The leaves will only take it so far.
But you wreck me baby. So I breath it all in deep and save exhalation for later. Gator.