The Fall is here, the Fall, the Fall, as if it never was at all. It's cold finally, as cold comes in Florida. There is no tapering, it comes all whoosh and me not ready. Do I have winter clothes? Does anyone here, really? We wear layers, we wear two pairs of socks. I wear legwarmers left over from long ago dance class with my flip-flops, and three skirts, and fashion be damned a hat I found left from the man dance of a bar fight. It is fall and my skin sings with it, the itch of tighter flesh and wash-red hands. My eyes look prettier in cold weather.

      We have color change in Florida. The skies are more blue, so blue you remember what blue is, and the sunsets are a orange and a pink and a rose rose red. The carnival will be here soon and I remember how fun that is, how we used to say "It's not fair!" and Mama would say "Ain't no fair today!" but oh Ha Ha! It is Fall and yes there is a fair come today! The fair as a kid, I rode all the rides, the fair as an adult, I always fall in love. The candy colors and circus sounds, the laughter screams and smells of popcorn, sweat, and sweet fried bits. A fair is for making yourself scared and smashing your face into your friend's sweatshirt, screaming and smelling their safe safe smell. I will win you a goldfish, if you did not bring a sweater dad will buy you an airbrushed shirt. It will say your name! I will want it!

       Soon I will get a man to come and light my furnace. It is so old it's like a fire in my hallway, and sounds like an angry child tap dancing on pop rocks. Sometimes when it is very cold I curl up next to it in my sleeping bag and watch the blue flames dance behind the glass, and I dream of camping and hot chocolate. Sometimes I dream of snails, and sometimes there are ghosts, but never monsters.

      In the Fall there are angels with the spiders in the corners of the rooms.

      In the Fall the shop signs creek in the silent spaces between the traffic lights.

      In the Fall the kids on bicycles have bright white grins that match their knuckles and they are coming home for soup.

      Maybe Fall will be my time, my time to wake up. Outside my window I can hear a cat crowling, and far away someone is playing electric guitar.