The birds and the leaves

are leaving the trees

but the dead ones still hold the wires

stringing lawns and mailboxes,

their tired hostages,

to the houses where they are dying

In front of the screens

of their cable tvs

glowing blue as the daylight

that is so out of reach

from the cubicle seats

running mazes through our lives

Everything has a light

and it comes on at night

to chase away the vampires,

but it kills off the stars

and they fall in my yard,

washed out from that melon sky

I can feel the hands of these last two months closing tight around my neck, that’s why

I’ve been drinking to stay drunk, you may call last-call but it’s not last-call for me

So I drive to the office

where it smells like coffee

and the artificial lights are humming,

and computer screens sear

through my corneas

and I sleep through all the meetings

I should call in sick

when I feel like this

but then I’d never come in

through all that traffic

another accident

a rush hour casualty

When I finally get home

I find out on the phone

another friend has left this life,

so I pray through the ether

and hope that St Peter’s

convinced of my memorized lines

I know that summer’s dead and it’s not coming back to life like Jesus Christ from his tomb

But this autumn’s sounding louder than a plane colliding with a skyscraper, I can hear the boom