autumn rising

fall rushes me into nesting mode: these previously
unspoken (unmentioned) urges propelling me toward
coupledom.
which is funny, i think,
because i have another half (i think).
and the pumpkin patch lathered me with dust, dirt
shadowing my face and clouding my eyes but dirt
is not deceptive.

she had unnatural dark red hair
spiked and faltering at the back
like when i had my first stereotypical lesbian haircut
(also an unnatural shade of red,
though mine favored fire engines, not
pomegranates) and didn't realize
i had to style past the top of my head.
black long sleeved shirt
tucked under a dark grey polo. dark jeans.
calm if stoic expression, and eyes that sparkled even from where i sat,
my ass twitching on a bale of hay.
i didn't exactly mean to stare her down
but she reminded me of a woman i loved
ages ago, a woman that i could have stayed with
if she hadn't been unstable, a bitch, and ultimately
sexually incompatible. so when i say that
i didn't mean to stare i actually mean
i did. and she looked back, surrendering to my super lesbionic
power of eye contact, so i looked away because i recently realized
i am coy, or something like it.
i looked back
as she caught my eye and looked away.
i meant to smile but i forgot how.

dirtier still, my blackberry's screen said:
1 missed call, 1 new voicemail.
i guessed who it was.
i was wrong. and i hesitated to listen
because we were supposed to talk two weeks ago
and when time like that passes, with us,
tones shift and claws unfurl.
but: a pet name, a sullen mouth;
call me when you have time.

and i don't have time for anyone but myself.

the weather turns around me. the breeze
swaddles my bare neck, my eyes blink
against the traipsing autumn sun. i felt most alive
surrounded by burnished corn stalks
and tipping pumpkins. it feels strange coming home
to a human-less house despite my inordinate
love for independence. i am almost worried that
i am too independent, too accustom to my own heartbeat
and pillow-strewn bed, that i won't be able to nest
whenever the nesting feels it's time to begin.

and my cat has been sleeping
in the same spot on the end of bed
for four hours.
i wish i, too, could be as complacent
when i stumble over something i love.