24-September-2009 6:22AM

As I traverse the orange-hued blackness paved with asphalt to the bus marker I recognize that somehow without realizing it that we are in this in-between region scaling two distinct but nebulous states. Actually it wasn't until my waiting next door neighbor signed to me that it was unduly cold for a morning in early fall, especially since the days this week have been uncharacteristically hot and bright. When I ascend the bus platform and take some moments to scrutinize the ridership, they display this interpolated predicament, for half are like myself, hanging onto the dying gasps of summer as obsessive and jealous lovers might, and the other wrap themselves in fleece and Gore-Tex, flannel and leather shells in order to repel the encroaching gelidity. Hot-Glued-Hay-for-Hair-Lady even has compressed her coarse and wily mane into that sky-blue eraser head hat of hers, which I guess may in fact herald officially the end of lightness of being to give way to the caliginous of heart.

Not only are there polarizing factions in reaction to these days of ambiguous environs, but there seems to exist a pervading silence encroached upon the entire throng of passengers. Not one conversation or inane discussion has made itself known; for even Lady #2 has managed to keep her stock yowling oral cavity shut and still, which may be a miracle in itself if one ponders over that condition a bit excessively. It's almost as if there is a solemnity, a reverent mourning for the death of a beloved only to rise from the proverbial ashes in the form of lifeless browning leaves on the muddy earth, a perpetual slate-gray sky that diffuses all incoming photons into an endless dusk.

-But then, I'm sure I'm over analyzing, actually I know it. Forgive me as I plow through this ironic plight of "writer's block" which has descended upon me like a woeful plague that resists the progress of this pen across this page as if I were a tack in the ass of a rhino.