30. Windshield Wipers

September ends in rain
wipers going, window open, dampness

waiting at the light watching oncoming traffic
for a half mile in front, headlights on,
coming down the hill
depressing me

to a child this could be
a holiday parade, some wacky race,
but it feels like a mass evacuation,
some one's funeral

September, it ends in rain
just before whatever October
has in store
and the bite of dark November

I wish I had something lighter
to tell you

the streets are wet as are the
black trunks of trees,
the smell of rain, sound of your foot steps,
the dripping branches.

Fists in empty pockets,
you walked everywhere then,
always hungry,
thinking at least it's still warm.

You could feel your heart.