Earth worms in a race across blacktop, wet with new rain, the inner workings of their bodies evident as they stretch out fat and juicy just begging for the hook. Dandelions have closed up shop, no canary sunshine heads, no lion’s mane with thick grains of pollen to shine under chins or wipe off children’s noses while smiles invade our faces. The squeak of galoshes on the slick pavement and the simple giggle that rises from shallow puddles, clear and inviting, make me think of how she might look sideways to you, verifying rain boots are for splashing. Molecules of water cling to the strands of my hair, still wild and unkempt from a morning of fitful dreams, after awakening hours before with you on my mind and joy spread the width of my face. I sit inside waiting for the bus watching umbrellas open and close, lithe bodies jockeying for position in line, as they report to each other the haps of the weekend. The aroma of coffee infiltrates the room, and I wait.
Aleathia Drehmer 2008
Published by Kendra Steiner Editions 5/08