Beneath golden leaves and cold sunbeams

His fingers are blackened and glistening

Marrow stiffens to ice in the unforgiving light

Golden leaves stick to his red knees

His blues jeans are turning black and dewy

Soaking grass absorbs the rest of his warmth

It thrives beneath an empty sky

This morning another car flies pass his lawn

Life goes on past the damp sidewalk and curb

The parts of his motorcycle shimmers like his fingers

Metallic and greasy rings are warm in his palms

Burning nostrils lose their prickly and stiff smoke

Another passing car pulls a chilly gust

Picking up crisp and fallen leaves

Time races to catch up with the outside world

Living past the lining of a damp sidewalk and curb

With the turn of a silver wrench

The hands on his watch click to the present