Patches in October colors.

Like patches of art and pieces of a strangers mind, we are pushed against buildings invading brick walls. We set quite the show for our watchers inside of the coffee shop we hang around. Like screens, gazes through glass windows, your limp body dangles from the side of my chair while i inhale your hair and my cigarette in the same breath. Like postcards we are, like patches of characterizing art permanently sunken into cement, into bricks; sink into my heart. You are my art. Windows cracked for my polluting smoke, invade my mind like you do so well.

"I'm stuck in a web and it's hard to get out," she cries to us without tears, but instead deep eyes and a shy version of a sad smile. Met in the same park yesterday like the first day of school, you're still not doing okay. The littlest things are her biggest, they keep her alive, she lives off her music, but he won't take her dancing. I'll take my girl dancing, but I'll get shy and watch. It's not quiet my screen, not quite my beat, but she looks beautiful anyways while everyone who recognizes real beauty watches. My lovers eyes, too, are blue. Some for me and some for you. She hysterically laughs and says brown reminds her of cows, she trusted and got burned. Don't burn me please. "It's not supposed to be like that," but she's going back to college, but she won't forget all about it. I couldn't ever do it either, so just checker your hands with mine and take me for one of your rides.

 This is a favorite place to be, riding down the black chasing October colors with your fast car. Take it in while it's here, soon we'll ALL be bare branched and skinny; bare boned and lost for you, so lost for you. I'm always right when I'm with you. I'm where i want to be and there with with who i want. You're what i want.