Thursday, October 26, 2006

It's October and the leaves are falling too fast. I walk the campus with careful feet, with careful fingers, picking up each fallen failure and handing it back to the nearest tree. Lately, I've been saving my words for the squirrels, though they have no time to listen. The abundance of fall overwhelms them. Simon touches my arm. His fingers unglue wet strands of hair from wet eyelashes. His tongue teases the river on my cheek. It's October. I walk the brick sidewalks without recognizing anyone. I feel like the future is my only hope of salvation. Which gives it such an overwhelming amount of pressure. It's suffocating me. I picture Simon sleeping, clinging to the stuffed pig I mailed him two summers ago. He'll have one leg wrapped around it, one arm draped over its head. The hollow of my chest aches with the image.

posted by Anonymous @ 9:23 PM Comments: 1