that particular feeling of fall version 1.0

driving on wet pavement,
windshield wipers
just
not good enough
to just
barely see out the windshield.
leaves blowing into the street,
they litter the pavement
and fleetingly kiss
the double paned glass.
double paned,
with plastic in between
so if, seatbelt-less
one day,
your body rockets at the windshield,
your cranium wont get stuck in the
smashed out hole.
you'll just
s m a s h
at 60mph
into impermeable, tortoise-pased liquid.

everything's grey and moody
and never stationary.
and the wind hugs you;
chilly on the brink of goosebumps
but your skin stays flat.
maybe, your nipples raise.
the wind tells you
that fall is coming
and that, for a few months
you will be okay,

at least until winter.

at least for now.


at least--


until the leaves cycle through;
all the way through.
to brown.
and separate from their
many-armed, frail
and skeletal mothers
(who shiver, brown in their nudity, over the worst season).