These late afternoons bring pools of shadows at every turn. I can envision myself dipping my toe into them, rippling little circles through them, disrupting their darkness. I want to slowly, gently, sit down on the concrete curb where they cross from the sidewalk and onto the asphalt, then slip my shoes off and begin dangling my feet over the edge and into the black water, splashing the shadow's inky murk all around my ankles and calves. The sun crossing my cheek at a 90 degree angle, highlighting the bridge of my nose and the girth of my bottom lip. I squint and I smirk, knowingly, at the trees and the ants and the birds and the squirrels, for I know completely that they and they alone understand.
These days are rapidly growing shorter and shorter and soon the leaves will be in technicolor once again. Before I know it I'll be buttoning up my grey cardigan in order to mimic the chilly overcast skies; my own little knitted camoflage. I can already hear the crinkles and crunches of the brittle foliage under my feet, and the anticipation is nearly too much for me to bare. I can smell the sweet flesh of a stranger's neck, and feel the soft bristle of their wooly coat against my skin. The stranger is out there... somewhere... wondering where I am and why I haven't found them yet, just as I am wondering why they haven't found me. Soon, my friend, soon... with the turn of seasons comes unbridled opportunity for chance meetings, and I will be watching, waiting, to see you come around the corner. This is what I think about when I dangle my feet in the shadows of these last few warm days... Soon. Soon. Soon.