Days colored like this, it's hard to imagine anything but an ending
never mind that a statistical analysis of the past decade would reveal that
their endings usually fall hardest on the sunniest days of spring
and on birthdays (his) and other such neatly coinciding ironies.
So really it's on him if he attributes Romantic symbolism to a forest highway and a
mountain sloping dusty grey brown smudged with rust, flares of yellow bright as
the eyes he still dreams about.
Cyclical light dying and cold creeping in with the West Coast wind
gusting against the windshield bright leaves flashing like a fire
that burns cool and quiet and bloody again and again.
Dean's hands chapped and reddened from the dry air and the cold,
turning the wheel as the world tilts slowly into fall