The clean of the rain juiced from

heaven. Falling. Dry yields to circled

wet. Water shines rust and doors

with stains.


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.






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