The autumn light is dimming me,
the gray between feet and sky
showers you with melancholy,
plucking orange and red from skeleton branches,
kicking through the decay on the concrete,
brings a fleeting smile,
the kiss of the air, welcome
and tightening the skin.

It’s time to go dark,
time to stare out at the gray,
carve out a space to wait,
to blend into shadow and sweat nothing,
to realise that you are this and this is all,
the being in a room, in a house, on a street,
in a town, on the edge of the sea,
heaving with the tide,
wishing to be swept away,
while watching TV for dinner.

Let us away, the locals would grin,
as they finished their drinks,
pulling on coats and each other as the pub vomits them onto the street,
their stroll home was short and forgotten,
the hefty one is planning to **** his wife,
a steak knife tucked into his belt,
handle wrapped with tape to avoid fingerprint telltales,
and yet,
tomorrow, tomorrow,
will be the same.