His thoughts make a reckless, haphazard path;
retracing it is impossible.
Girls are on plodding horses,
passing stands piled high with pumpkins;
bands of dirt ring their bottoms.
He faces the sun,
but is overtaken by sudden guilt;
he left no message for his wife.
Grey stone gates enter to the world,
connected to stiff picket fences
bordering cracked sidewalks, ridged with stiff grass.
He has no destination,
but knows he must leave this suburban labyrinth;
he won't face recriminations as he will never return.
He slowly sinks into the ground
against the yellow, pockmarked brick;
Beside him is a suitcase.
