Halloween at Dawn.

You sat outside

On a well worn couch

Placed on a splintered deck

Looking for answers in the trees

Wet with the night air

Your touch made its way

Through windows and plaster walls

To the lobes of my ears.

And you ran yourself slowly

Along my neck

As you always do

Leaving a trail of molecules

Set on fire

Swarming porous skin

Soaked with sweat like morning dew

I can still smell the autumn cigarettes

Clinging to my clothes

Like the last parcels of fabric

Hugging the metal frame of a couch

That’s seen children grow old.

I cannot recall the fall leaves’ colors

Quite as clearly as I can remember

Frantically pulling apart your costume

Threads in my palms

As if you were hiding the sunlight from us all. 

The post-trip inspection report shall note any additional mechanical or safety defects not listed on the pre-trip inspection report. 

Jack Kerouac said one of his guidelines to living life and being a good writer is to "accept loss forever." Despite the enormous amount of truth there is in that statement, I think there is something inherently within us as human beings that goes beyond just acceptance. We must not only accept loss, but at every opportunity, we must document it. Be it a loss of love, comfort, sanity or friendship; we must document it for others that may suffer the same fate.