O for some rain.

The street is the same as it has been

each of the hundred days before

I would think that one day there will be a change

small cracks stretched out like girls sunbathing

swallowing up the heat with their hungry skin

and splintering away into shadow dolls

across the sand expanse

and that one day the road will be a pile

a faint path of gravel and cement dust

ground away to nothingness beneath the weight

and the sun but...

The sun was warm today as it always is

and the heat sank through the air gracefully

the spray from a continually spring

to where I don't even feel it anymore

between my fingers and under the weight of my hair

I notice its slow waves crawling down the road

the thousand undulating motions on its way

to some place still holding its cool breath

like a treasure hidden away from thieves

the sun will slide in through the window and steal it away

but not today...

Today I saw your father across the road

myself on one side and he on the other

with the lazy heat sliding along the street

and the thousand hairline cracks in the cement

drinking up the golden drops like wine

and then the rain broke down on us

I stood wet and saw him across the street

with the water running down the long lines of his face

and sinking into the seams of his shirt

and spreading its thin line like a stain across his chest

and broken came the pain pouring forth.

A thousand miles and a long farewell.

The street is not the same.

The heat sticks to my skin.

You are gone and far away.

The rain has stopped again.