“I guess I’ve been hiding”
she says, as we both sidestep
a pink disc of gum on the sidewalk
“I’m getting used to coming home to no one”
a woman shakes a can at us asking for money to pay a vet bill
a man covers one ear saying into his phone, it’s too cold for October. We’re in for it this winter.
“It’s not that I don’t believe in love, objectively”
she tells me over the sound of a bus brake releasing
air and people. In the confusion a child reaches for my hand.
“I’m just always waiting for people to leave”
we reach the house and she turns to face me arms opening
over her shoulder white paint is peeling off the porch stairs
her breathe is warm against my neck.
it doesn’t feel too cold to me but I always loved the fall
and we are probably in for it.
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