there isn’t that comfort anymore
in my walk, stroll, gait, way
i feel being outside, exposed
searching for sun
i find instead the crisp quick chillness
of a new england autumn
must start bringing out leather, and sweaters
thinking of scarves and mittens that
expose my tips at will for cigarettes
i find myself searching for you
in the fields of bright faces, in pods of wool
even though you are not up this early
or up here at all
i seek you like the fleeting sun in my fall
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