the first day of fall

the first day of fall

is the last day that i kiss the sky

and i don’t know any more of the lyrics.

i always get that one mixed up with

your voice

was the soundtrack of my summer

and you’re unlike any other

(or something like that).

certain people are probly ashamed of me right now.

i see you over there, sky. didn’t rise up pink today—instead, a cold, slatey blue. it was frigid out. cold enough to saw my hands off when i was doing something as innocent as changing the song on my iPod. cold enough to drive me inside to class earlier than i have ever been there before. “Cold enough to wear a pea coat?” asked the girl in my Spanish class. Cold enough to wear a coonskin cap—I hope Marsha Lewis sports it tonight.

Cold enough that my fingers have been chilled all day and they are struggling and done.