The Upheaval of Autumn

how sad, we thought

to decry against death
against obscurity
by studding the ground
with impassive monuments.
 
you took my picture then–
slouching on a patina grave
around you
the upheaval of autumn
the violence of surging leaves
just fallen.
you asked me to smoke
for the photo
that memorialized our own defiance
–or celebration ( I cannot remember which)–
of fate
 
we left when it became too cold
we’re too young to know, we agreed
 
later, over coffee
and a red table
a red that attracted you 
in its bright confrontation
we laughed 
and laughed. 
before that silence.
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