They’re squirting that chemical cinnamon smell into Wholefoods’ fruits and vegetables section again

Apples, persimmons and celery, doused in fake Autumn

Is it possible to die of loneliness?

Orange and black and orange everywhere – and the leaves haven’t turned yet and T-shirts are still about and you can risk no jacket

If you want to

The beers curl on your tongue, empty bottles sit in brown paper bags

The empty fridge looks closely onto distant lives in yellow windows

They stare back, into the lost apartment, muffled in white noise

She steps out of the shower, her hair’s wet this time, her ribs catch shadows

If Halloween wards off, what brings in?

And the odd waft of cinnamon repeats, over and over.