All the leaves are brown --
So said that man whose hat was a
Better way to understand him.
I understood him,
But then I lost him, and forgot all about him.
One day, a letter arrived, dirty, crinkled --
packed with dreams from that man --
smelling of cigar smoke, cheap aftershave, and
a rolled newspaper left on the porch after a boring sunday afternoon.
Here am I, friend – oh but I -
Almost forgot you were a flesh and blood composite, not
A mold of a problem best left unseen.
