i look up: the spider dome shows her knees of rust; the faded dress atop and tight – dark army green, ugly but whole – effective in keeping my head and shoulders away from that oh so devilish sky-shaped weeping pail’s dance. at the journey’s midpoint, i watch the sparkly surviving beads speed down and around my old man’s cane – an opportunity: at the finish line of our race (an acronym, bit cheeky) they all hug and puddle together, and with my road pen i write, in glyphs invented right then, how it feels. the gap. the noisy silence. the dry pain of not starting a conversation.
The skies cry patting my wounded skin with every drop— washing my writhed eyes hiding my ache Hands move steadily taking out my umbrella like it's my only shelter As light As the raindrops were, the little puddles reflected my heavy soul.
The umbrella she once held; couldn't cover her own tears.
I woke up to a rainy day, and I got the inspiration to pour my heart out.
I want to drink all the juices of it’s light we can be bigger than this, older than this the ocean is only here for a while for us underneath your fingers I can already see the shaping of the amethyst
we won’t tell the wind that this one day you will cross the street waiting for me on the opposite side our umbrellas will touch a glimpse of a smile and your hand waving apologetically flying like a bird away from my sight there you will be, my invisible wife we won’t tell the winds, we won’t tell the seas they are only here for a while
that night when I fall asleep I will see the rivers on your palms leading me through that night we will leave life, my invisible wife and we will finally be