truth

I wander and meander
toward the next place to loiter
the quarter in my pocket heavy like wet tennis shoes tied together
Pregnant clouds gray pray to break their water
asphalt opens its arms, be it a son or a daughter
First drops strike my face
my tongue tastes like smoke laced
with the blackberries in the bowl on my counter
And the flowers open their mouths wide
to invite the life into their veins
and it rains, unapologetically
puddles stare right back at me
my mouth quivers, full of potential energy
but to hush and listen
skin glistens, mouth closed or you’ll miss them
you might notice that clamor fades as the droplets paint the houses gray
or how the trees bow their heads and pray,
dreads shake and hips sway
time takes all day, slows
things are exposed in honesty you can drink
I lean back into my brain and think,
of cold, wet freshness, with lips of ink
tattooing each inch of my skin, up against the kitchen sink
I think
of valleys filled with crawling fog
breaths in my body deep and long
all smells of the world upon me
unfurled like clean laundry, then slept on
soft, white sheets in slate afternoon light
staccato on the roof pound the tin till twilight
I might take flight
seek memories down drainpipes
or surrender once again to the yellow stripes
running mile after mile and all the while
the wet asphalt sings
come home, swish swish, that’s the way,
ever closer, let me wrap you in my arms
be you a free bird or a poser
cause nature don’t distinguish between
social complications
just supercharged droplets in this storm cloud of a nation
so feel it on your face, let it cleanse down to your creases, expectations, information
let it all just fall to pieces
head out the window
headed to who knows where
follow the gray skies, close your eyes, and say a prayer
that your winds are strong enough to take you there.