There is a girl,
she draws attention
she sparkles in the sun,
under moonlit nights,
and artificial skies,
The streets move
with her legs
like the eyes of passersby,
men drunken with her image
wage invisible wars on their sanity,
I am a falling leaf
wrapped in the cool air
over a clear crisp pond,
it is mid-October,
a thin layer of ice
clings to its hardened banks,
at the mercy of the wind
I tumble, a solitary leaf
a moment green then
red orange yellow brown
all at once
once green,
and tumbling
tumbling
falling
There is a girl
wrapped in her coat,
hidden from the world,
the October air, victorious
over summers magnanimity,
beats against her figure,
she is walking home,
by a pond,
its icy banks glistening,
by her feet
a leaf,
the scars of
spring summer autumn
dull its color
she reaches down
her soft fingers weightless
over tired brittle skin,
the others look on falling around her
too late-- she places the leaf
in her pocket
the water ripples with
her echo, we are tortured
by her distance,
unreachable
elusive, he clings tightly to her
the envy
of watching eyes
and
passing gazes.
