Today was not the first day of fall,
the equinox having passed some days ago
but today I stumbled while rollerskating
and skinned my left knee on the sidewalk.
Earlier I told my roommate that my right leg had scars upon scars
I showed a few and traced their dark shapes with my fingers
“but my left is pristine,” I said
and well it was.
Not many people rollerskate these days
but I like the way I can move in them
I like the way I can stand up straight and be whisked away
by gravity.
Gravity, taking you places, and sometimes,
only sometimes depositing you in a heap on the cold concrete
It takes a kind of backwards thinking.
I sat in the sun today for a while and thought backwards to when summer was ripe
and before it bloomed.
I thought about the last days of spring term
spent hunched over a microscope in a building clothed in ivy
clothed in ivy and smelling of paint and bones
those last days I spent counting teeth and organizing fish-skeletons
and walking home through the alleyways so I could see backyard secret blooms.
I lived in the city then.
I forgot to take my rollerskates there
so I walked instead, miles and miles looking for new things to like
and people to fall in love with.
I fell in love with many people in the city, and I thought about them in the
cool sunshine today.
I thought about them and the insides of their houses
and the possibility that I have accrued some scars from them
on the right or left side of my heart.
It is then that I remember that my heart has never seen much
except my blood, and it is a serious worker with tubes sticking out of it
and that it is a backwards way of thinking that my heart
has seen others and air.
Even on days like today when I wonder
if someone has placed an untied balloon in my chest, full then empty,
full again, with a crazy sound.
Today on the way to school I noticed a tree with one yellow branch on it
the leaves of which seemed to be reflecting the sun
I wondered if the rest of the tree was having trouble saying goodbye
to summer
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