Outside the window
the leaves are orange and red and brown.
I can't remember when last they were green.
I can't remember wanting to bring it up,
overnighting your home and couch parking
on something not equipped to fit
five foot anything of person mass, but
the leaves are going and in stages of gone.
I would love to say something to you
about how it is outside that window
without coming
across wrong.
I do not and breakfast
comes instead and forgetfulness comes
on like loose eggs across ceramic and we all scream
a little bit inside.
Turned out
of doors
we go
about the silly bits and it is funny
the way Indian summer can stretch.
The way leaves on the ground still swish
the same way they were first heard
years ago.
