death in installations
    i'll take it as it comes
    and how many times will i push the paper away
    and say,
                "no more,
                              not this time"

autumn comes while i am sleeping
    while i am curled in bed in
    the old sweater that i love, glow of
    the television lighting blue
        streaks in the dark
    the steady hum of electricity
        from the computer,
                a daily noise.
and today i opened the porch doors
    expecting summer, but fall air
    invited itself in.

and why must there be a period
    of rememberance with each season?
today i am reminded of
    sneaking outside the trailor,
    behind the 18 wheeler,
    sitting in the gravel
    behind those wheels
(so big, almost bigger
    than me, but
        not quite)
            and smoking a ciggarette
that tasted awful with strawberry bubble gum
        there was that
    vauge snapshot
    of orange belts, kids
    walking home from school and the
crunch of leaves,
                    yes,
                    always go back to the sounds.

all this comes now,
    hurriedly,
        because i forgot.