Car, almost crumpling. Sheet after sheet after sheet of tiny rain fingers jabbing at us. Blam Blam Blam
with gusty winds against the windshield. Steamy on the
inside, cold under a damp car blanket. I do not mind
this going by. I am silent with thankful awe when
my father pulls off the road. Do not notice the
whiteness of his knuckles. Am unaware that he
did it for any reason besides for my viewing pleasure.
Second story hotel room. If you pulled the drapes
shut, noone could tell you were behind them. No
screens, I opened the window and sat in its frame
reading. My legs were wet but the book safe and dry,
Sarah came to find me twice and I was delightfully
All of nature wild and free and a
thousand sensations seducing me. Grass in waves.
Sky in layers of light, trees shuddering with
a fear of something larger. Me. All of nature on a
splashing spree and a thousand sensations reduce me:
the washing, waves, weaving. Fading my proud haughty colors (one by one they watery wash away).
This might be the answer after all.