Friday, July 19, 2013

035: on friday night the heat broke [part 1]

I drive home with the windows down, pouring in night. Rain soaks the earth like oxygen, lungs in a firestorm. Old anthem thundering down in the wheels.

I go slow, let one hand fall out into the rain. Slashing rain, like a warm, reckless hail, thrown from the heavens, too long imprisoned there. At home I step out into a downpour, and my God, it is cool. Door slams. I walk toward the blurred porch lights, lift my face to the water. Feel it coursing down my neck.

The earth: I hear it breathe again. This storm’s everything we’ve wanted.

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