Sunday, September 23, 2012

Autumn

There's a place down by Lake Ontario called the Sunnyside Pavilion, which they fill with tents of art on a September weekend. Paintings mostly. The masterwork is the building itself, wrought iron fences and acloves and winds whispering through its white-washed halls. If you listen, the building says I am old and I have seen things.



On the second floor, there's balcony where one can look out across Lake Ontario and pretend it's the ocean. Some other skyline, some future place or half-imagined city.

 



As I walk back with my own found art, captured within a phone dying for a charge, I stop to brave the waves lapping the rounded rocks. Water cold, and the lake can't be mistaken for the ocean this close—it's got the wrong smell.

A red maple leaf reaches for a lost season from between boardwalk planks, and I think fall is here, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. But sand between my toes feels the same in September as it did in July.

Also, there are dinosaurs.

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