The acorns and chestnuts are falling. A train bellows along the river and I feel the hot air of summer sink lower, take on weight like a damp cloth, cling to old bones and old habits with familiar comfort. My heart has taken a turn for the better. It is seemingly less likely to explode and friends take another year. We drink cheap beer, smoke cigarettes and sit comfortably with new songs in the same room we have shared for nearly a decade. Outside the world is shifting, lovers spark blue in the night like matches and I sit alone on the porch with the moon and insects and autumn settling into the mountains. The dead will be coming soon for their apples and marigolds. Light the lanterns. I want to lay naked in the river at night with moon and rock and old water one last time before we freeze into the landscape of our fading selves. We take on ghosts as our hearts crack and scab over.