Roman

Naked Brunch

Under cover of starkness
the sun raked purples out
of the browned and yellowed
leavers. The exit is a hard fall,
a too-early dusting of cold
disappointment, unburbling
into a frozen, lakeside shore.
They eyes dashed and dotted,
telegrams without a wire or
a recipient, simple messages
decoded by the insolvent 
months. Liquid worries 
are common currency,
for all debts public
and improper.