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  • Writer's pictureJW Bella


My leaves fall into believing that my insanity is not real.

It’s the shades of red, yellow, and orange

creating resplendent rugs for earth’s floor.

And yet every time I see you, I gotta find a jacket to cover me

from your windy ways like you and Chicago are competing

to see who’s the coolest.

Sadly, it’s not you.

You are the 1-10 football record I loathe

The school bus I don’t want to board the first days back to school

The State Fair ticket keeping me from a good turkey leg because

you are so expensive to pay for and deal with 30 min traffic.

But I inhale you like succulent ribs from Labor Day’s barbeque.

Your oxygen becomes imperative to my living through fearful Halloweens

because you don’t want to cover up your ghostly and shady tendencies

If you could, you would give thanks for the Native Americans

making the mistakes of sharing their food knowing the ones

they were sharing with are the true Indian-givers.

I want to believe you will change.

I do.

I desire a faith like Christians in Jesus believing that a miracle

would happen and give forth a son named Contentment.

But the eve of a new year comes and you, Jealousy,

kiss me with your frozen lips and heart with a gun to my back

decorated with confetti saying…

“Let all acquaintance be forgotten and never go with them tomorrow… or forever…”

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