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