Start of Autumn in Paris

Sat outside a bar near Pigalle,
with autumn painting the earth
caramel and sky lilac,
the space between is a sweet wrapper
sticky and crisp like toffee,
bartenders get us drinks not on the menu +
we talk about the French and how they stare,
how they hold eye contact two seconds too long
how they say excusez moi after they’ve
flung you across the metro
and how the women are pencil thin and the men straw,
we laugh. and in between gunshot mopeds and
bicycles with tiny baskets, we see congregations
ebb and flow and we stare too long.

autumn

autumn has brought with it death and despair
    as leaves combust and
dive, a withered heart is in repair

    winds have brought with them
the gales of expectation trapped in suspended breath
    with promise of a thrill at summer’s hem

        what a time for a fire to kindle
    when the trees are stripped
and the branches brittle

Seasons

Every winter I lose a glove or a hat,

Put on a tinsy bit of weight

Like a slender grizzly ready to hibernate

 

Every spring I lose an umbrella

Actually, I’ve never bought one

At some point I’m caught out like a drowned salmon

 

Every summer I get a heat rash below my neck

My West African ancestors look down and wonder why

Stranger still, when the sun is out I lose a sock or a tie

 

Every autumn, I plant something new

Winds and hurricanes come and shake my branches

I lose a friend or some summer romances

 

So in sun, sleet, slick or slide

Which season will I lose my heart to Love

And would she trust me at all?