Let me get a grip on this day before

I give up.

Because the leaves (of hues impossible)

Are fallen, a revelation of

Truth in branches bare,

Multiplied in their

Outward,

Upward

Skyward

Spread

Six thousand crunches underfoot

And a smell almost metallic

Urgent like a last drive

(post pattern, seven Mississippi –

Hurry-up offense while snot dries in the wind that picks up while muted colors

Blue

Brown

Green

blend into early evening

as dinnertime smells drift aloft

each leaf is a different day

that has finally come to rest

in unbound collage

random misrememberances misplaced by the wind

in time,

soon, they decompose and one unbecomes one and

returns,

as the boundaries disappear

like

gray trees

against gray sky

over gray men

whose gray dog’s grandfather stood watch

fifty-seven Novembers ago

Faded like painted lines of a soccer field

Regret,

As I

Regress,

Idyllic disconnect

Lament is every leaf upon my car

(I cannot clear the strays upon my seat –

So I take them with me

In my intraplanetary travels

But it’s no use

Their crunch not never-ending

Orange, bygone