Fall Day

The wandering smoke of that cigarette mixed into the white musk of her perfume and blended into the hot September breeze. There beneath the darting shadows of golden sunshine I heard the terms of surrender, while city traffic lumbered by indifferent to the beauty of the autumn leaves or the million shades of platinum and gold found in every toss and turn of her head.

Such meagre hours remained and plans, schemes and dreams had all failed to render the fruit of profit. It was bad. No lies and half-truths

could cloak this. So many debts, so many dreams. Who could help? What options remained? What could be sold or bartered? Time to escape this. To run. Once, when every problem would be vanquished by taking to the road. You know a solution. The problem is twisted its shape. Not a good way and not the right way, but a way. Now was the answer to answers that you gave later -- Later? I don't think so. Then it must be now. "Interesting..." "What are you talking about?" "Well, you've modelled -- you've done lot's of photo shoots over the summer." "Yes, well, nine, ten, I guess, I've made a few hundred. That's all I can do! I've got my regular job..." "You could do better -- I mean make better money!" "What! How, maybe doing nudes?" "Well...not exactly then maybe, maybe a little more interesting. "How "interesting..." La-deee-da... So very professional, so very impressive. "Value added" services in 'kinky' sex scenes with an artist's eye. There would be costs and costumes to be used with that! For something to be squirreled away for cold lust. All better it seems to be lost. Done either way. And done against that great scheme of all things, then it matters so very little what is or is not done. What works. What fails... The Gods of time and space will harvest it all in the end. It all will end. It's as well done full as empty. Burn bright or burnt down, until that molten curtain draws over this toasted   wasteland.