grey ghosts move through empty, dark streets
Three miles’ walk from my door
I like this misty look carved out of a drop of rain in the morning fog. Silver plated on curbs and ship’s ropes around. Covers with a white satin curtain a summer that never came. Summer. Summer. Summer. It doesn’t sink into my shoes. It doesn’t wet my pants’ bottoms. It doesn’t collect the dust of the road into the tight knitting of the t-shirt fabric. Everything is different than previously, different than before. Enjoy the rain.