I know your tree is bare.
Your tree is a telephone post.
I know your tree is where, in a life that’s fair,
You’d see you’re free to take to the air.
But take it greeezzy,
You’ve only mistaken the tick of the clock
For the sound of galloping time busting past.
I know you want to take the air.
Your pearls are fool’s gold.
But take it breeezzy –
Adam is moonlight,
Eve is the high tide.
They died before The Fall.
(what I mean to say is:)
“Autumn leaves are not quite suicides.
They die before they fall.”