the leaves on the ground
and the annual return of
pumpkin spice everything,
i notice my thoughts return to you
and what you might be doing today.
No longer do the feel the urge
to google you,
to find your mugshot from age 19
and a shoplifting bust
when you needed to desperately escape
your life in Florida
but I still wonder about your happiness.
Are you an old lady
writing poetry on your front porch yet?
Or did you give up that dream
like I did
simply for the sake of avoiding the cliche?
Just as I notice
Etudes and Requiems 