| Trouble with the
Fall I often write about autumn, how the air changes becoming thinner, how the crows gather in the thinning trees, calling to something they must see beyond life. Even blood is weaker, opaque, but soup cures this. I loved a woman once, for a long time, but then one clear October night we talked on a veranda overlooking eucalyptus and the crows were quiet, the moon was up and when I turned to find her she was gone. I blame the moon for making things obvious, the crows for not defending me. I love the season with leaves underfoot, the first puddles and Dia de los Muertos and see, the trouble with the fall is just that someone always leaves. |
| Carpinteria, 2001 |
| Kyle Kimberlin |
 |
