In the air last night, there lurked an all-too-familiar cat.
It snuck close and wrapped around us with the sound,
a breeze that rustled soon rusted leaves
as we sang of opening a restaurant in Santa Fe
since all this misery pays no salary
and as the L word fell like lightning bolts
through the silence of the night
The chill grew at the back of my mind
“It can't be Fall,” said the left side
“It will be soon,” said the right
It snuck close and wrapped around us with the sound,
a breeze that rustled soon rusted leaves
as we sang of opening a restaurant in Santa Fe
since all this misery pays no salary
and as the L word fell like lightning bolts
through the silence of the night
The chill grew at the back of my mind
“It can't be Fall,” said the left side
“It will be soon,” said the right
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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