October, you are a dying man
wearing a yellow suit
voguing down the boulevard
pretending that cane is just a prop.
Step inside the boulangerie.
Sugar melts, cakes grow stale,
but being in the case is like being on stage--
it's "let's pretend" in the sweetest way.
Summer hasn't been kind to us.
There is chewing gum on our soles,
our skin is a disaster, our regrets numberless,
yet we reflect in store windows as clearly as royals.
October, offer me your arm and no one will know
that you are not just being gallant.
With each step, another day ticks away
and when you lie down with me it will be as a near-ghost.
No matter, don't give it another thought.
I am here, once almost-pretty,
my spirit a genuine drop dead knock-out babe
and all yours until November arrives
in its ferryboat, and if you brought no coin
I've got you, allow me, you with the kindly moon in your eyes.
______
Oct 8, 2025
Oct 8, 2025 at 6:30 PM UTC
October, you are a dying man
wearing a yellow suit
voguing down the boulevard
pretending that cane is just a prop.
Step inside the boulangerie.
Sugar melts, cakes grow stale,
but being in the case is like being on stage--
it's "let's pretend" in the sweetest way.
Summer hasn't been kind to us.
There is chewing gum on our soles,
our skin is a disaster, our regrets numberless,
yet we reflect in store windows as clearly as royals.
October, offer me your arm and no one will know
that you are not just being gallant.
With each step, another day ticks away
and when you lie down with me it will be as a near-ghost.
No matter, don't give it another thought.
I am here, once almost-pretty,
my spirit a genuine drop dead knock-out babe
and all yours until November arrives
in its ferryboat, and if you brought no coin
I've got you, allow me, you with the kindly moon in your eyes.
______
2025
Request permission to use this poem