an early morning
moving truck,
mother’s lip stained
coffee cup,
her majesty-
tobacco
queen,
a muffled sigh
in flannel
sleeve,
ledge littered with
fall’s blood
drained
leaves.
last caged bird
of memory
flees.
creativity
no leaf like
the next,
restless children
of fall-
scattered and
vibrant,
in play or
at rest,
tiny toes flatten
grass,
eyes drift like
clouds
through dream
filled skies,
when grown weary,
we cozy
inside,
no leaf like
the next,
autumn ache
floods my
chest.
turning on the
soft lights
only to be
further scared
by the reflection
of a movie
never scripted to
be shared.
autumn tones bleed
through the
drab,
rust and red
paint nature’s slab,
doom cast on breath
of summer
vows..
mere whispers now
as window
locks,
sleep
taunts parents,
kids
fear clocks.
why don’t i trust
to say?
why can’t you see
what’s in the
way..
we kiss, before
the freeze
makes it impossible
to breathe.
tea taints lip of
paper cup,
mist like incense
ribbons drift
from thoughts-
the yawn that can’t
be stopped,
in blue shade corner
coffee shop.
swallowing
tunes,
tracing lyrics along
shrinking
screen,
sliding into
bubble
water-
whispering
obscene.
no, i will not miss it,
though i’ll crave replacements,
do you still study
stars
through the roof of
your rustproof
civic?
or are you racing home
to meet curfew?
are his eyes still
blue?
said i’d never
miss it
but i
do.
a kiss behind
a veil of
mist,
you never
noticed
from too safe
a distance,
but now we’re inside
where its clear
and dry
and still can’t find
each other’s
eyes.
hands clasp, just as
you pass,
keep on, nothing
to see
in chest cavities
of many
swells a cunning
curiosity,
and i’m really no
no different
though i try not
to stare.
hands in the garden 
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