Rain: A place a decision is made with pockmarks in snow and glint of green in the magnolia. Holes in the curtains, letting in the anyway, like a porch or other screened-in area with essential oils and muscle ache from a bout, violent or ecstatic or other, rain you slight, other-kind scraping & bone-feel. Still don’t know what crows do in rain, or what we’d got, standing in the dams, caught. Damp encouraged bites & gnashing, sharpened the unpleasant way home along High. Beyond damp, the soaking, the turning just to the very things themselves under sheen & glisten, and what’s more – turning by coming from the sky, suddenly. Here’s the day wringing – it leaves us. The only remarkable thing, our readiness—you smiling like in a photo.
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Rain: A rainy day means a movie, means grass the next day, pushing. A banjo without strings for thin slips of paper, dust grey toes and short shorts with stripes running down the side. A man in sunglasses looks down a twelve-year-old’s shirt. Sun on dirt and tank tops.
