To feel you, fall
I had hung my hand out the window. To feel you, Fall. Auguste and Autumn, and October skys o'er it all. It felt so good, the cooled windiness of artificially 35 miles an hour. And I felt you, fall. You caressed my dismembered arm, as if it were a being, whole, and you didn't discriminate. I forgot about the road, and driving, and living my so so life. And the brightness of yon season of death, fall, autumn, the fall of all life into knowledge, and the belated promise of spring.
Then pain, shooting through my outstretched hand, stroking the coolness of the car. "Did I hit a fucking branch with my hand?" I pulled my hand from your embrace, now sour, fall, and what should I find but the struggling body of a wasp. Implanted, connected with me, by poisoned fire from its throbbing abdomen. The scenery slowed its dull course from front to back, and I viewed your emissary, Fall, as it freed itself and flew. Thi messenger brings the most enigmatic phrases of oracles and autumn, of life and lipping the grail of death.
And the omens scream at me from the walls.
And my still stunned palm, outstretched to cup more, to learn more, to fall, more, into you, fall.
.S.
Then pain, shooting through my outstretched hand, stroking the coolness of the car. "Did I hit a fucking branch with my hand?" I pulled my hand from your embrace, now sour, fall, and what should I find but the struggling body of a wasp. Implanted, connected with me, by poisoned fire from its throbbing abdomen. The scenery slowed its dull course from front to back, and I viewed your emissary, Fall, as it freed itself and flew. Thi messenger brings the most enigmatic phrases of oracles and autumn, of life and lipping the grail of death.
And the omens scream at me from the walls.
And my still stunned palm, outstretched to cup more, to learn more, to fall, more, into you, fall.
.S.