day two

End of Summer
It's 12:05
and Fall now.
Summer fading,
the bottle empty
like the pen I'm digging
through my purse to find.

I pass up an empty pack of
cloves, old kleenex,
and a broken bottle of
my favorite perfume.

What was the point?
What is the point?
I was, am, a better person
but not always happy.
Fall is not the same as
Summer, though built
on it's euphoric highs.

She's falling,
the leaves. Why?
The wood floor,
burning logs,
dangling girl.

Fall: to the ground,
out of love, on a map,
into reality, towards a
challenging point/change
of season.