The clean of the rain juiced from
heaven. Falling. Dry yields to circled
wet. Water shines rust and doors
Weedy city lots. Moist. Damp.
Spiny nameless plants stand erect.
A stubborn aroma released. Broken
bricks, colorless, beaten by time.
An open window. A scratchy song
finds legs, dancing to the street;
diving, splashing, making wet without drips.
Shoes break puddles. Gutters parade
floating papers. Marching with music.
Swallowed at the corner. Dropping. Gone.