hot autumn evenings

Hot autumn evenings 'round these parts these days. Leaves extra crispy and golden hour quick to ditch out for the nightlife.

I remember when I used to drink, sip old fashioneds and scribble poetry alone at the Gold Dust Meridian. It felt romantic and that's why I did it. Classy, even, when I wore my corduroy sport coat. But it wasn't much more than what what I told myself it was. Didn't fill any hearts or holes save for that one time I let a stranger read a poem. He guessed correctly by the rhythm of my writing that I was a musician. He wasn't flirting and neither was I; we were two fallow souls in parallel at the bar.

Hot autumn evenings outside in the air, light-footed, strong. Floating over miles of city sidewalks, face to the sky or down in the dirt peering at the tiniest life. Hand in string with my best friend. Who cares what time we get home. Let's walk 'til we're hungry.

And the autumnal monochrome tinted versions for fun:

This is my entry for the #monomad challenge, held daily in the Black and White Community.
Put down the drink and give it a try.

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