Floodlights fill up the street,
the rain now visible as a gash
is visible on a clear complexion.
Little freckles falling into pools.
A worm burrows deeper into
its sheets of dirt, unaffected.
Likewise I light a cigarette
and stand on the cleared-out
patio, making necessary notes.
A droplet clings to the end of
my hair, a crystal hanging
off a furious bushel of hay.
I tried suspending it, making
it last, tethering me to the
downpour, but the magic of it
left, failing to catch it as it falls.
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