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By darwin Date: 2003 Apr 30 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.30.13.54.7940]] |
| Today it rains, in the quiet. With the mellow morning traffic slowly dragging by, in a somber funeral procession of thought. Sometimes the body drags, and memories fall with each fat drop of rain. It's haunting, I tell you, when old lover's faces find their way into your morning coffee. I can ponder for hours, and the way one lovers face looked as he slept, and another when he would take a low draw on a cigarette. I see their silhouettes at times, in average Joe as he walks out of a corner store, carrying a bottle of Merlot wrapped in brown paper. I can almost feel the warm tingle, and casual dryness of the wine in my mouth, the familiar feel of anticipation of his lips pressed against mine. Of course it's never one in particular and it's just memories, just moments of gratification before the sun rose the next morning. Now I wake up next to someone, who stays until sunset, and rises with the chickens. But for now, it's just memories, and a fading sun behind gray clouds. My feet, sluggishly pulling through puddles, on a rainy day Wednesday. |