By Ashley Ellen Goetz
- Did you hear me, rain?
I said I love you, for all of the obvious reasons; list a reason; the answer is yes.
- Right as rain…
- “‘Tis a drippy drippy birdsong day…” read the sailor, from the diary of a girl who survived a plane crash around 1966, but died before being rescued.
- Now it’s a shower outside. A continuous sheet. An ocean of 90% drops and 10% air. It’s white-ish.
- Red buildings; tree stalks; faded against a gray-white background nearing complete opacity.
- Rain, rain, don’t go away, please don’t leave me alone another day.
- When I wake up, I think of you, rain. Drips. Aches. Pierces. Eyes slit. Clenched. Nose tears. Pout.
- Bubble shimmer dream pop bloat bubble up down on the ground over under the door out the window to the sky-like-looking blue kite with cloud wings made from rain drop drops floating to the wayward sun; they’ll be peace when you are done.
- Before I wake up I dream of you. You enter through a doorway. You pause. You stop. You look at me. I look at you. You drop into me; rain; neck pulled in tight hugs; just hugs; because the day we kiss is the day harmonica’s will sing forever.
- Wet leaf flutters with a cool breeze through gray light on a reflective pond-type black and white day.
- Collegiate he says. Cozy people, they say. Fisherman’s town she wishes; throws a rod out to sea with no wire, just hooks; catches; digs deep; resonates; thunder growls; fear gasps; yellow light, glow; tosses the fish free but wishes that she had brought a very large tank with her so she could have taken them fish home to care for and feed a good and hearty meal for the rest of their fish days.