equinox

autumn is an act of mourning, of shedding, of precious daylight slipping through your grasp like air like time like love like tulle. chloe says that i have sadness in my heart. technically, i have sadness in my lungs. it is craggy and bilious, rough and uneven. i draw needlepoint breaths waiting for the rainstorm to pass. chloe and i make feta eggs with oregano i grew in all the rain that happened before. i caress the eggs into a soft scramble; they are velvet fragrant on my tongue. this is a memory that is wholesome and nourishing and when chloe moves to los angeles at the end of next month i will think about this day and how easy it was, just my friend and i in my apartment in the morning light. i am proud to have made something that tasted so good. i walk around brooklyn in the late afternoon and watch the first few leaves whisper to the ground. i have sadness in my teeth, rigid like concrete like a levee like a spine with better posture than mine like the place you gave me in your heart. maybe that is what it came down to, that i am the yolk and you are the shell. the days draw shorter. i protract, myself.