perhaps the truth depends upon a walk around the lake —notes toward a supreme fiction
Sunday, October 11, 2009
away
I know pretty pictures but it's nearly my birthday and it's playoff
season and all of a sudden all the leaves tumbled off branches
in wind andit smells like decay, which I don't mind in fact aside
from the smell of the ocean the scent of fall is one of my most
favorite, and I'm making soup for dinner and will probably go kick
some leaf piles later so there.
(I haven't really been away, just from here, but really
I've been around it's just that sometimes
I don't want to be here here.)
Labels:
disappearance,
fall,
leaf,
soup,
water
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