Autumn is like this.

The days connect in chains
forming the shape of a year
curving up-down like your back
when you bend over in the shower
your spine acting as meridian
splitting the water droplets
carelessly seeking solace
running down your lengths
collecting in your hollows and valleys

Just like the days piled up
wrinkled and haphazardly discarded
in the form of the pants skirts shirts
flung about the room in pale light as
I hook finger and thumb in the band
of my stockings with the tear on one thigh
tip-toe leg up on the edge of the bed
and I try to be graceful and round
when I turn to see if you are watching
I love it when you watch me

Just like the days that are stark and bitter
and make us a little bit embarrassed
so we cover up with hats boots coats
and I keep to myself when I walk
down the street to my house
where at night cotton sheets and a down duvet
will exist around me with the indifference
of two strangers and I will toss and kick beneath them
as I think of you and me wet in the shower
And I just want to touch you.