dark wind

it's the first of november
you feel her moving in
to strip down your branches
to goosebump your tanned skin

she comes after hay rides
cider and pumpkins
running laps around your mouth
spit glistening down your chin

she tell you where she's going
she won't tell you where she's been
she phantoms in like dry rain
and get's you sloshed like gin

there's no line between
where she ends and you begin
taking over like a pirate
moving in like dark
dark wind

a bit of heaven

i sat to close
to the window
to your fever hot, hot
to the mad hatter's laugh
to your worry wound rot

to the soft shelled crab
to your watering pot
to the taxi's cherry break lights
to the red sign's white stop

to the jars of sugar candies
to the callosed feet of the poor
to old man picking his nose
and then opening your door

to the pregnant penguin woman
with her crinkled coat of cash
to the questions in your suitcase
you'd never move to ask

to the plastic egg dispenser
to the permanent marker letters
splashed across the faded posterboard
like whirling modern dancers

and it's all out of focus
it's all too close to tell
if it's time to change the guard
if it's time to clank the bell

it's all a bit of heaven
it's all a bit of hell
fetching your pail of water
drawing wishes from the well