Beauty crunching underfoot,
preparing for the long freeze.
I wasn't going to focus on that smell:
earth, rot and whatnot, the memory of
a November funeral. But from
behind us, her voice snuck into my ear.
The taste of Marlboro Lights
and quarters snatched my saliva.
I spun around but that sound
was already lost in the rustling
of tree branches and rushing of the wind.
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