(no subject)
It was an erstwhile afternoon, into the shallow remnants of October. He remembered her, for reasons obscure, as he parked his dented Camry under boughs of grand deciduous oaks and maples lining the off path street. There was a blustery blue sky dashed with white cotton puffballs, all embossed against the stark age of the brick rimmed chimneys. Leaves, shorned brown yet yellow twittered in the breeze in the boughs, and he took in the dregs of a Beck song on his CD player before removing the faceplate and turning off the ignition. His cellphone chirped from the charger, and he pulled the cord and shoved it in his blue corduroys.
Out the door, he breathed in the fallow autumn air while squinting in the slanted sun, omnipresent and cruel: shimmering luminous through the baying and yaw of the bough leaves.
It might have been her hair, golden and full, and was it, yes; the depth of her brown irises. Not a glimmer of affect, all pure and crisp, a confounding eloquence: stable and authentic, not an aura of unresolved Freuds anywhere. Those eyes, timeless for seasons, yet he thought of them now in autumn, as he watched the sturdy and ancient trees sway and swath, and slowly leaves flaked down to the asphalt in rocking wisps.
William Comparetto
© 2008
Out the door, he breathed in the fallow autumn air while squinting in the slanted sun, omnipresent and cruel: shimmering luminous through the baying and yaw of the bough leaves.
It might have been her hair, golden and full, and was it, yes; the depth of her brown irises. Not a glimmer of affect, all pure and crisp, a confounding eloquence: stable and authentic, not an aura of unresolved Freuds anywhere. Those eyes, timeless for seasons, yet he thought of them now in autumn, as he watched the sturdy and ancient trees sway and swath, and slowly leaves flaked down to the asphalt in rocking wisps.
William Comparetto
© 2008