It was cold and crisp as we went down the dark street kicking up leaves as we walked along. With just barely enough layers to keep warm of winter cold biting wind and rain slick over the concrete. Somehow it managed to slip from summer without me noticing all the usual leaves falling and days turning colder. The lights were not trying to tell me anything only reflecting a blurry golden off the wet ground this was winter walking together solitude in the city. One of the few times when others understand silence. And several nights past driving through the midnight street trailing a delivery truck, it kicked up swirling a storm of leaves floating around slow motion at speed. Now it was autumn perfect. It felt good to drag and shuffle my feet as a kid all velcro sneakers again stirring up those red to yellow browning already leaves.

We'd hide the cigarettes in our socks and walk to the football game. Acting like our parents didn't have a clue what little hoodlums we were.

We'd kick the leaves into piles as we went, in the early dark, to walk the cinder track that surrounded the field.

Families and our fellow students in the stands, cheering. Jocks on the field, playing their hearts out. And us, the ne'er-do-wells, strolling along the cinder track, smoking Old Gold Filtereds. Looking at the cheerleaders. One of 'em might have an eye for the wild boys.

Crisp air;

Leaves falling;

Hot boxed smokes.

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