Presentation Day

You smiled at me
in your coat and tie
I dropped my coffee.

10

(via Sea of Shoes)

October;
even the leaves burn alive.

Friday Night (for MK)

We burrowed in tight and locked up all those keys.

I have blurry memories, but most of it is just conjecture.

After all, what are they worth now?

Not the nights of menthol in the back seat,
or the quiet days when I just wished to hear you sing.

Everything seems kissed with finality.

Yearning for more and everything and all at once; can't have it.

Most of all,
watching the light flicker in and out of your horse shoe eyes
begging it to stay.

None of it will be left,
come May
so why not accumalate every bruise?

In A Pile of Leaves and Ash

It is early October
too cold
for Summer's light.

Legs crossed Indian in the driveway
I sit
smoking myself warm.

Watching him
flicker;
my own last pocket star.

All the others have died
after three year time allotments
then a last season of glory.

He remains
huddled in my palm.

We have both been left.

After summer
in the cold.

Tuesday Night

You hold my hand,
I am counting.

How long till you let go?

Mid Week

Even in a moment
I am outside of it
Analzying.

I want to make a map of you
Then follow those lines
To the inside.

80s Windbreakers

Child:
slips, trips, skips.

Adult:
Leftover cheerios in a bowl full of sour milk.