The day was September, oxygen oozing from the dying wildflowers.
Cease beeping, we said to just about everyone.
We hung a sign outside the church: Park your car, forget your anger.
The leaves clattered metallically onto café tables round as coins.
To be kind, you wished the leaves might fall in water.
A little absinthe, and I felt like a rose revived by aspirin.
No one expects a reward just to ease getting older.
Even though there’s hell to pay.