it's *clean*, somehow.
all the grunge and grime and gunk of the city, washed away,
leaving behind only wet and heat and green and...
and...
something undescribable.
something pure, priordial.
like this is a clean we're not meant to see.
a clean and pure
far older than us, and one
that will remain far after we've washed away
in that same neverending, always-falling rain.
it's fleeting, only for an hour,
or minutes even.
but always as it fades
and takes away its veil of mystery
that lets us see for moments
into a land older and younger than our own...
as it fades it leaves that lingering smell for one moment more.
a promise that it will come again.
it hasn't rained in weeks.
felt like it never would again.
but it's raining hard now, here...
and soon i walk outside
to drink in
that promise
once again. | 
