höstkant

For a week it sweltered: Limbs stuck together, power supplies failed, the makeup of women on the tram melted, and potted plants just sighed and gave up. My skin couldn’t take it: I bought plane tickets North.

But before I managed to escape, the temperature dropped mercifully in a soundless rush. Every year autumn never loses its acuity: Outside of the building the air was thick with moisture and grey with electricity. Nearby I saw a small Romanian man welding a long metal beam; the torch was bright and white and blazed like the engorged eyes of a terrified animal. I looked at it a long time. I could not look away and thought only of Magnesium, Magnesium. I looked too long, I suppose. When I shut my eyes, the diffuse outline of it still burned there for a moment. And then, thunderclap, downpour.

When the morning came I thought, my God: but that the sunflower fields have gone fallow and that there are leaves and rotting crabapples littering the ground. Curls of smoke spill slowly, tangled, out of the edges of the shadows which grow longer each time I look. Is it just my vision, or is the sky clearer than before and what’s more, changing color?

Höstkant without homecoming. For me, a first.

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One Response to “höstkant”

  1. michael9murray Says:

    Lovely, lovely writing.

    Many of us cannot take the heat – I always find myself longing for that first frosty morning.

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