fallen leaves

[lady philosophy will not be pleased with me for my continued association with the Muse - but he's a handsome devil, and I swear he makes me better, even as the syndrome worsens.]

Someday you will visit me
in this gated academic community.
Foghorn bellows will fire my heart
like kisses from your lips.
I will spin you ‘round in circles
when you step off our two-car train
and show you slowly down the lane:

“Suitcase wheels spell iambs here
and there flowed the river of mud
just hours before I stepped onto the
cold gray sidewalk and, looking up,
saw you, like you saw me
just now.”

You were so warm and sudden there,
the fall wind drying your ruffled hair.
My bare legs loved the touch of autumn,
crisp yet kissing cold, no bite ––

I think of you on frosted nights
when I hear a brightly orange rustle,
when I catch the subtle fragrance of lately
fallen leaves.

Say you were to rebel against your calculus lecture
and come to me warmly, late in November:
alone but for some six thousand or so
we could love unconcerned,
and at sunrise I
would lead you, yet wrapped in dreams,
gently to lie on a fresh-laid bed
of golden ginkgo leaves.
If you must know what it means:
Yellow is a color where we could find peace.

When you visit me
in this gated academic community,
I will show you sights along
three long, straight paths.
You won’t remember the names
of the buildings, but you will
fall in love with me
one more time,
which, in any case,
is all I really had in mind.