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Autumn

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The air was crisp for the first time all season, burning my cheeks just a little. I like it when it’s clear and not humid so my own head doesn’t make me feel claustrophobic. I had asked my mom for a ride, but I’m glad she said no.
I like autumn. I like it walking towards you and seeing it come in for a hug, rather than sneaking up behind, and grabbing you. I like how everything smells like something, and how everything seems to be absorbing heat. I like seeing boys in leather jackets, and girls in warm sweaters.
I like imagining girls in sweaters, carving pumpkins with their little brothers and laughing. Them lying in bed, dreaming of concerts they want to see, food they want to eat, boys or girls they want to kiss, and music they wish they could listen to without waking the whole house.
I like boys in leather jackets, the smell of smoke ever present on them. The books they carry in the front pockets of their backpacks like bibles. Boys who love beautiful things, but don’t tell anyone that they write bad poetry.
I think Autumn is the best time to do things alone. Watch people. Read books. Watch people read books. Drink coffee. Take late night walks. Write poetry. Write about people you watch who are with other people. Maybe I’ll join in, or do something else, once I feel compelled to do anything besides watch the world be beautiful



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