It smells like Fall.
The trees crunch with crisp leaves,
the high school marching band booms in the distance,
and I want to be 10 again.
I want to ride bikes and drink cider.
I want to camp out in the back yard with my brother to protect me.
I want to watch the old black and white TV on a long extension cord
while sitting around a bonfire.
I can taste my mom’s cooking.
I can see her face while she stirs a steaming pot of potatoes,
dipping her finger in the salty water.
I watch her get tangled in the telephone cord,
and throw a dish towel over her shoulder.
I can smell the smoke from burning leaves on my dads clothes
I can hear him kicking the dirt off his work boots and
placing them neatly on the shelf.
I hear my Grandparents pull in the drive.
Hear their “hellos” echo through the house.
I can hear the ice cubes jungle in his glass.
I can smell the liquor on his breath.
There’s a tooth pic in his crooked smile.
Her perfume lingers from room to room.
She leaves lipstick on my cheek.
She is carrying a basket full of corn bread.
And it all smells like Fall.
