my eyes posed over layers of images
a steering wheel, my cold hands,
the dirty windshield, the dusty board
and then followed this spectacular
woolly blanket of clouds
... the imminent signs in the sky of
a promised-long-overdue rain
and later
this night
as i type,
a lone sound outside
[nearly foreign to me now]
is that one of she! wet!
typing too, with her clean clear big drops
she falls
on the ground
on the grass
on the floor & w/
her fresh crisp claims
launders it all
leaving traces of hope
still...
after a little while,
like these words,
she will dry out,
evaporate,
dissolve
