Likens it to the coolness of fall.
What a pleasant hoot -
A dog stopped on his dump-
Dee-dum to have a poop.
We know the likes of each other,
If only in scents and leftovers.
In the night we rise wickedly.
What red and yellow leaves
The season brings. The need,
The comfort of naming -
of life. There
In the gap
Alice assumes is breathing,
A grocery list folded unneatly,
A mile's walk to the store.
The fall-chills are deep things,
There is no chasm.
Ah! What sweet relief, if short-lived,
Rare as powdered sugar. Falling by
The way, to be plump, unlike summer.
What fright we feel in being half-whole.
No need to resist a drop in the weather,
And what right have I, thinks Alice.