waiting for the rain
in the west, the clouds had been darkening
all day, even sitting on the bank--
when the air feels like this,
you just know it will rain soon--
but the sun made me sleepy
like Alice
before she dreamt of wonderland.

we waited together
in the evening, the clouds were groaning
they were so heavy
sinking under their own weight
wait
waiting
for the rain.

I love how it storms in the summer;
it reminds me that we're moving
we're spinning in a circle even when everything feels still.
look west, he says.
how does he always know what direction things are?
can he feel north under his skin?

how curious, as Alice would say.
she somehow always found her way.

the sun disappeared in a splotch of pink, far off.
I said, let me know when the rain starts.
for a second I went in
and the air conditioning gave me chill
through the dampness on my skin.

I love the way it storms in the summer
that frenzy of suddenly pulling down the hatches,
and we're all safe inside.
and every time we pass under a streetlight
I see the raindrops falling relentlessly down
down
drown
in the rain.

but it was gone as soon as it came
and the effect left me dripping
a few tears here or there and distressed
and sweating.
until at last we pulled away and into the empty parking lot
where lights made puddles into portals.

Alice would have tried to go through.
maybe she would have made it, too.