It is October again.
Or maybe it is November but either way
They sound the same and when they change
Look the same, too -
But anyway for you,
The monthly divide
is blurry so instead today it's the one in your life
All silver and cleaner than sharp oxygen
All flat and finished like new cars
All sharp and final like a pocket knife.
You come from two places and here, they diverge
As you sit between and October's tears become the stars and
November's forehead conceives canyons
(The Earth is hard and smells of decay)
So you say dad I need to go to dance And it ends. It is over. Because you said that.
For two minutes the seasons crack and crumble in your backyard.
Then is it October again.