Summer came. Summer left.
Jean cuffs dragging at the heels
and the beginning of shed leaves,
orange and yellow, with them.
Laces broken at the basketball court,
sneaker stitches burst climbing hills
and frayed at the river,
caught in branches and shrubs by night.
The afternoon breeze
raises jacket zippers and the dead
memories in photographs
committed indefinitely.
I should have worn a hat
against the misting rain.
I remembered my sunglasses and I'm glad
the tears welling behind them
are my own to keep, cold
as worn pennies on my cheeks.
She is wearing her sunglasses too.
Please stop crying.
