fall rant| filed under: Poem, Poetry
The first rain brought all the leaves to the slick city streets.
Halloween yellows and oranges, reds and the pavement's dark mirror.It is an Autumn smell I feel now in this city.The incongruous smells of this season in Washington, DC. Fireplaces alight, the smoke white piped into the thick creamy overcast.Woody smoke.Wet streets.Slap of tires along wet pavement. Drops of water tapping onto the tin of the A/C unit. The rainy Autumn captures every sound. Siting in a coffee shop, listening to recording studio stock smooth jazz, the grinding of th Burr grinder. The rich funk of the Jamaican Blue Mountain. Autumn is richness of smells. The cool kills the garbage in a city and replaces it with a nicer pot pourri. Feces, rotting garbage, urine -- these things are a City in Summer. Where things strive to self destruct and in their absence there is stink, there is stench. There are outdoor rats and yet the cold nip sends all indoors. The reactions are not allowed or slowed and the stink never comes. Or at least not in a quick oppressive breath. In the winter a man smells more fragrant. Can spend more time away from the shower. The pits cloud less with the body's odor. The layers of clothing protect and insulate. Insulation. The insulation of the Autumn. The snuggling of the fabric, the cloth, the skin, the fur again the inefficiency of the body's boiler. The ineffective heating or we have gotten soft from the movement of our body's towards merchant's store, towards the catwalk and the haute couture.©1997 Chris Abraham