You’ve just stepped out of one of those baths...
you know, the ones where the water is so hot
you have to periodically lift lobster-red limbs
out to cool them. And the steam rising from your
porcelain cauldron drifts upwards,
heavily, clouding the mirror and window,
permeating every crevice of the wallpaper-
curling its edges out
like the arching of a lover’s back.

And then
You step
Into the rain. Nekkid.

A cool drizzle at first, that evaporates before
actually touching your skin, rising up with the steam
still escaping from your body in rhythmic wave.
The clouds, murmuring soft groans, release a gentle
pitter patter pitter patter that falls

the very top ridge of cartilage slowly melting
down to the tawny pinches of skin below.
The raindrops fatten, until your flushed lips,
cheeks, are drenched and smooth, your jaw and chin lined
with rhinestones of droplets. You look down,
and a soup of salt, sweet (acid?) rain,
the essence of you, encircles delicately, completely, each plump toe,

providing milky reflections of the darkening storm clouds.

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