the string light awning draped over the diner
on the South East corner of St. Clair and Lauder
bids me farewell and beckons me when
I return home, alone or with you.
the August sky wore a purple tint
that switched on and off every time I blinked
when terror of traffic growled and screamed
the whites of your eyes guided me through.
we stopped to look at the silver leaves
I released dreams through chattering teeth
sun on our skin and a peach shared between
and I know home is with you.
-october 2020
essences and accidents 