sitting on the suburban
street waiting to be swept
away into the next pile
on the corner of Main
and not as main
(at this time tomorrow
the leaf, with all of its
hopeful joy and energy
will be disintegrating
into the winter
like the white flash)
we wish the stars
good night and feed them
with our startled conversations
all the fiery little
lights remember
is the leaf flew
up and up and up
until it joined them
in that same
white flash
we wish
at the sight of
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