stick like gum underneath your shoe. But I can’t
undo that first meeting. I couldn’t
stand and with labored breathing, I wasn’t
the Mona Lisa. I was the leaning

tower of Pisa! You met me in a
hurricane, unraveling in pain. Driving in
the breakdown lane.  I can’t fix this
bent rearview mirror. But pedaling ahead

I see clearer. So, as we say goodbye
I’ll hold my head up high. Look you
in the eyes and apologize. This is how
I'd like you to remember me, as crimson
golden leaves blowing in the autumn breeze.