Summertime, accident-prone.

The fall has finally arrived. And when I say that, I completely acknowledge I am making small talk. Strangers only talk about the weather. But honestly, I am glad the summer is over. Summer-time is accident-prone. My summers at least, usually suffer from a greater number of accidents than normal. I am one of those who put spring and summer in the same pot.

Then the fall. Big beautiful fall. Autumn; easy, we've done this before, guns back in the barrell, worms back in the can. Bye-bye summer, goodbye sweating lips, breakfasts to make, lunch to be arranged, as for dinner is lost into the night; humid and insistent. Bye-bye humid. Goodbye conditional persistence.

On a thin chain of next ones and what-happened-nexts, I put my hand out to shake this past summer's hand. Have you been a good one? Have you behaved as summer should behave? Are we actually going to shake on it?

An orange hoodie, a pair of cream-colored boots, a sock in the kitchen drawer, 3 films, a baby in the making, a chandelier made of garbage cans, a kiss 3-years past due, a conversation handful of "finally" and "why now?" somehow mixed in the same sentence, 23 gallons of quality bourbon, a dance that lasted two days, a telephone call of repair and recap, one loveletter (not sent), a new set of lies and a new set of instructions to dance around them, coffee and chocolate as usual, $27 stolen, 3 consecutive days of one thought (sans alcohol), new soles and old feet for the same shoes, a bargain taken, a bargain given, a Mexican, an Italian, masking tape on nipples, a kiss for a name, some glass hidden in the grass, a knock on a door at 5am, a hand-over at 8am, a phone call of half-truths, laughter in a bottle with old friends, confetti on a street corner, a walk to someone else's door, a light that glimmered at that door, slow games of chess, a walk through an old park, a misplaced phone call, that beautiful brunch on that honest morning, that lost face found on that sunday night, some hands held, longer sideburns, new soap, a request granted, an arm to break, a question never asked, bets others made on us, a fish lost in her own ocean, the last payment on a twelve-year love lease, new curtains and there is more.

There's more but you get the gist of it, dear summer, goodbye summer, goodbye as I shake your hand again this time around but my dear summer, one day, goodbye will be farewell.