raging rapids
david came to the door completely naked, shivering and dripping to the tips. i wrapped that 6 year old in a towel and asked what the hell he was doing running around naked... he said he was bathing. like when i was a kid running through the gutter, making dams out of pinecones and sticks, i fashioned him one of those homemade raincoats out of a black garbage bag. he popped his arms through those holes like they were on springs, and the neck caught on his swelled up smiling cheeks.
when david left the house again, he could step straight down from my door and dip his toes 5 inches below its frame into water. in fact, my house and all those in the town were completely immersed in it. the rain came in the night, and it hit hard upon the tin, crashing down, and when those drops stuck together in streaks, and began to bead up in pools, the current caught ahold and carried it toward the sea, through the trees and directly along either side of my home... or its what i could account for from my front window. so much water passed by. i took up the habit of stepping out, unzipping, and releasing the full bladder in a fine stream toward its wake.
say adios to the garden idea. i had to wade out in knee deep waters, bending over into its muddy face to search with my hands for the tipped over flower pots. i saved 4... beat and bent and looking up at me saying... what the hell took you so long? on the third day the sun peeked through and i opened the door wide open to invite it in, setting the plants in a tight group, huddled together and spreading out in its warmth like lizards on granite. i got some sun on my pallid shoulders and waved at the boats from my book... ass sat on my floor, feet out in the cool wetness. the neighbors came close enough for me to notice them looking at my nipples. ha... i havent exposed them much in site. i realized how sensitive i am to eyecontact and the weather... how every change of tide or temperature, moon out and about, or a settled dull grayness can manipulate my mood on an hourly basis. tease the mind, fuck with the vision.
when david left the house again, he could step straight down from my door and dip his toes 5 inches below its frame into water. in fact, my house and all those in the town were completely immersed in it. the rain came in the night, and it hit hard upon the tin, crashing down, and when those drops stuck together in streaks, and began to bead up in pools, the current caught ahold and carried it toward the sea, through the trees and directly along either side of my home... or its what i could account for from my front window. so much water passed by. i took up the habit of stepping out, unzipping, and releasing the full bladder in a fine stream toward its wake.
say adios to the garden idea. i had to wade out in knee deep waters, bending over into its muddy face to search with my hands for the tipped over flower pots. i saved 4... beat and bent and looking up at me saying... what the hell took you so long? on the third day the sun peeked through and i opened the door wide open to invite it in, setting the plants in a tight group, huddled together and spreading out in its warmth like lizards on granite. i got some sun on my pallid shoulders and waved at the boats from my book... ass sat on my floor, feet out in the cool wetness. the neighbors came close enough for me to notice them looking at my nipples. ha... i havent exposed them much in site. i realized how sensitive i am to eyecontact and the weather... how every change of tide or temperature, moon out and about, or a settled dull grayness can manipulate my mood on an hourly basis. tease the mind, fuck with the vision.