Acer Sacharrum

sky turns light grey

leaves scattered all astray

flannels on and hoods up

pumpkin flavors fill my cup

sound of raindrops pitter patter

autumn air is all that matters

she came up behind me one day & tapped me on the shoulder

i spun on my heel, unsteady, a dumb american consistently

ashamed of my language

she pointed at my face and drew a heart in the air with her thumbs

i bought pumpkin pie lip balm that tasted like

fall in california

even though i'm in new hampshire

and the leaves are curling. 

the lights in sephora were sickly bright

like the lights

Familiar is this earthly language, these archives full to the brim. 
It must be how the world got magic, these rhymes of life and limb. 

how did words once flow

like water

from my mind?