Stomach sinks–
it’s November.
The body remembers the Seasons.
The brain hangs itself on roadways,
plows through closed signs
with powered gardening tools.
A few blocks flood.
Sedentary days damage and correlate
twenty new master challenges for sanity
and loneliness.
Return to peace is possible
with modge podge and fall debris and ten fingers.
Hearts create new closure signs.
Your fingers cross the Past and into space as well,
mild wind could blow me off course.
Metal grates could open in the streets
and everyone might pour through.
Remember, the Seasons don’t change moods,
I’ll be safe and I’ll find you.