Autumn
In this story the leaves are digressing,
In another, perhaps I shall too
With warm feelings and autumn shades tinting my view
We go along the path at a crisp clip
High heels and rubber soles
Trench coats and scarves fluttering
Scandalously in our rush to understand
The literature hidden between the flesh and the spirit
Soul on soul, deciphering in motion
Picturesque and ugly
Please Smile for me when the camera blinks
When that moment is gone and this photograph is all I have
Along with dangerous conversations of how we shall eventually Fall
Life Kafka, like Vonnegut, Marquez,
Slaughtering ourselves 5 over 5 times,
Armageddon in Retrospect
Metamorphosing within
100 years of Solitude
Loving in times of Cholera,
And we plummet beyond the help of our seasoned knowledge of devotion
Past the neurotic winters of Kerouac
Beyond the springs of Plath
Over and gone the summers of Margaret Mitchell and ironclad romance
To Fall
To the Inferno of the ground below
Through nine different hells
To end up where they started from
Dust begets dust
Dante in Love
All Muted in translation
In death, empty words shattering like
The Crimson leaf
Silenced in the psyche of la fabrication d'amour
Skeletons of desire
Lynched in the closets
The bedrooms,
Dusty and leather-bound
Black on ébène
Starved and lonely
The sound of Autumn on Leaves
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