Cold air, details smeared into the wet pavement.
Cautious footprints, versus waterproof shoes.
I vaguely miss everything, but no on in particular.
It's less lonely when the rain fills the space
between me and everyone else.
This value in obscurity, this freedom to go unquestioned;
freedom until I want my independence
Changing colors, smells, music.
Festivities growing out of cold November ground,
into wreaths and baubles and infinite scarves.
A season with the culture to be shared...
are your words as beautiful as your smile?
Let's make inside jokes and learn the shapes
of each other's hugs, until it's easier to be held than anything else.
Let's leave traces of our smells on each other's jackets,
breathe oblivion until it's sleep.
I miss interaction, but rarely choose it.
I observe, open, without approaching.
Just finish the eye contact I started,
and maybe some umbrella of a conversation
will help me regain feeling in my