(someone elses poem, my version)

these leaves fall
not colors burning
but pale as city autumn

and they are not blood on the street
i remind myself
they are not blood on the street
they are the unstoppable passage of time
symbols
mile posts

three nights ago
brownsville, brooklyn
specifically not washington
square, manhattan
a man and wife stabbed
there was blood on the street
running from his
drunk and torn
artery

but these leaves
paling with the day
these are not
blood on the street