October at the Corner of Thayer and Waterman

I put the comforter on my bed the other night, and was cold outside with a jacket, hands in my jeans. It's October, and I'm not moving to New York quite yet, my attempts thwarted by reality and human resources. It's October and I'm in Providence, sitting in the Sci-Li, pretending to be back. It's October and there's nothing they can do about my fixed-term loan, it went through Ruth, through the Corporation, official and approved. October and there are leaves on the trees and I want to be decorating a cottage somewhere, with a pumpkin on the stoop, taking a dog on a walk through a blanket of crunching leaves. October, for red houses, brown sweaters, a wish to be back in time for a guilt-free cigarette and different life. Instead I'm at the Sci-Li, pretending it's 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006. Unfathomable Octobers past. Catastrophes and suffering and unimaginable love. Simplicity I never acknowledged.