all i can see is barbeque chips flying out of the car window.
there are thousands, maybe even millions of leaves more vibrant
than they will be at any other time in their lives, but still-
all i see is chips. the corn syrup and salt and whatever chemical
allows such an unnatural orange to occur, makes every chip the most brilliant sliver
of processed potato i have ever seen. they catch the wind
inspired parachutes, outshining the sinking autumn sun
and floating down to the road. your dumb face is hanging
out of the window along with an arm bouncing a polyethylene bag,
bending and crinkling the light left in the day, causing a chip volcano.
your car told our car there were no snacks.
three heads pop out of three windows and smirk back at
our chipless vehicle, rolling over what we had hoped to eat.
i laugh at you with my head out of the window.
you laugh back with your head out of the window.
i see you laughing but all i hear is wind shouting passed my ears.
i close my eyes to hear it louder.
my barbeque chip colored heart pumps
barbeque chip colored blood to my toes and back.