Autumn is
                 Rotting leaves
And pumpkins wet
                 from brown rains
evenings that flicker
                 like stubby candles in
the early gasp
                 of winter wind.
My fingers stick
                 to maple candy
like memories
                 of rotting pumpkins
sitting on
                 wet leaves.
I am
                 a stubby candle
glowing
                 in a grinning gourd
a blushing girl
                 playing in first frost
I am
                 A blushing piece
Of home
                dry and crumpled
Drifting
                 eastward
on the breeze.
                 Autumn is
I am
                 drifting
Boston
           New York
                          Paris
                                  Cairo
Where are
         Where are
                 Where are
Alexandria is
                     not
                           me.