Hilary Sideris

Autumn began this way,
a good or bad day, depending

on your language, to lose
a hat on, given wind velocity

& grief. Your mother rode
the autobus in circles rather

than go home when all her
friends were gone, you've told

me more than once. You left
your Forza Roma on a Cross-

town 57, seeking Alexander
Calder, needing neither air

conditioning nor heat. I sneaked
a cigarette before we met. You

said my sweater smelled strange.
Bad? You shrugged, Beh.