I don't want tacos
I don't know what I want
So we end up with tacos
And because fall here
Is like spring there
After a blistering summer
We can't wait to turn
The garden and start it up again
But it's a strange fall here
A mixture of dying and sprouting
So even when you find out
What you want it's only
The wanting that survives
And a settling for winter roses
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