Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
Our bike seats touch familiar under buttocks
Dying grass and flowers thin; bend in the wind,
Tree’s leaves affect intensely displayed colors.
Pools close and drain, with new frost to blame.
Mothers count their wandering curious young.
A yellowing sun grows faint, shadowing its loss.
Fathers light expensive brown cigars for fun.
Dogs and cats play-excited, loud and rowdy,
Leaves and debris blow thru them in the yard.
Cold holidays come nearer, passing yet again,
Each year grows tired, cold, aloof, and hard.
On destiny we wait; fleeting speed of time,
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter yet again align.
Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
People cross me once
I don’t think twice,
Piece by piece
From the inside,
Do you see?
This lonely night,
as I scrub clean the soiled dishes.
Wet hands, same the front of my day-old shirt;
dinged pale, blotched, and loose.
Nothing in its place;
corners catching everything,
dirt sticking to the floor,
as the cat meows an indecipherable slight.
All of this would be impossible if it were tried.
Still, stifling hot,
humid as the night goes on,
sits a lonely parking lot.
There is no relief, save for another extreme; Midwest seasons.
-We know, we know.
Small things noticed under skin,
this sliver- this time, sharp and razor thin.
Walking into this empty living room
the radio addresses the score loudly.
Sitting on the couch I put my feet up,
and sink in.
Oh, what a night.
Frequency of seldom infrequency,
static-noised air to patient ear,
while colored with sun near a bus
or at the beach drinking beers.
Electric sounds come forth in waves
causation to rethink a certain thought,
eclectic colloquialisms, esoteric anecdotes;
meaning and purpose somewhat lost.
Effect and affect the way we make change,
asking questions: who, what, where, when, and why (?)
Coming from a time, this by-gone era,
not much action; save weather in the sky.
And yet always so much to say though,
because this is my local public radio.
Lightening danced across the sky in clouded seclusion; a million flash bulbs illuminated, ten thousand bowling ball strikes.
Cut uneven as broken glass still stuck together.
Gods must be gaming.
Cats run and hide.
Every silence a moment lapsed in hesitation for coming sound.
Alarm bells clamored loud, infrequently ringing.
This may pass before the commute.
Awoken by raindrop’s tapping,
as events plagued
pale-blue morning light
set in ruin.
There was a flood about us,
contrasted by the altitude.
What day is it?
They are all the same anyway, and then they end.
St. Paul in the fall,
whilst leaves change and thin.
Whilst festivities and fairs
under tents, bearing food, creep in.
Whilst trees bend
with robust forceful wind.
A time to reflect the mess we’re within;
past and coming years, one which end and begin.
Peers and loved ones we’ve lost,
at grand experience’ cost.
Standing growing moving,
shedding one layer at a time
A tan peals and pales,
A secret is revealed.
Skin and bone become frail,
light years fast pass the snail.
A north shore lake-effect patience,
Months under sun we’ve waited.
Suffering rain snow and gale,
Minnesota weather: what it entails.
In and amongst everything;
though a singular unit, alone as one.
Walking fresh cold press coffee in hand,
scanning distant verdant lands.
On this walk towards autumn- new times and old friends,
alternatives we enact; to the ever changing plans.
Remember the voices we will never hear again.
Remember the times with loved ones we spend.
Perplexed by this simple yet inspiring life,
St. Paul in the fall feels cool, close, fast approaching, and right.
skeletons stood upright to
a structural form.
the paint on the walls grow old,
follow the second hand’s tick-
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick,
sound of a knife-
Ding of the elevator; on a far off floor,
maybe the moon-
these distant lands…
Not for you.
Sit down, not quite at home-
this place is haunted too;
and pasts assumed.
The surrounding silence marks the language lacking.
Hunched on rowed stacks,
far towards the back.
And you thought you were the only one
Sit and think until punch clock strikes: done.
Broken bones under flesh fortress
lacking compassion, brass tact,
watching misshapen clouds float by
lives ending every breath they pass.
Dine on colon cancer while
sipping cirrhosis of the liver.
Indulging just to indulge,
dropping bombs, “peace giver”.
Common sense factors in this;
complain about maligned malaise,
bike past full-up Mc Donald’s
those sick and confused sit for days.
People stunned, smoke and speak,
running once a week, not for health-
weakened knees, speckled disease
always giving up when in doubt.
I can’t, I have a mirror to answer to,
how does one explain that?
No need for a child right now,
I already own a cat.