rejectomorph | Terrible Small Lips

The most furious downpours of the storm waited until I went out to go shopping. I came home soaked from brief trips through parking lots. Half an hour later I decided to rest a few minutes before cooking dinner, but I forgot to change my damp hoodie. I woke after four hours, and only when I unwrapped myself from the blanket did I realize that the hoodie was still wet. The Chilly air had made it noticeable, as I had forgotten to turn the thermostat back up on returning. I changed the damp hoodie, but now I have a damp blanket and damp pillow as well. The rain bruised me stupid.

Oh, I forgot to take off my damp shoes, too. I hope I don't catch anything.

Sunday Verse

My Love

by Richard Shelton

when the crows fly away
with their compassion
and I remain to eat
whatever is left of my heart

I think of my love
with the odor of salt
of my love who holds me in her eyes
as if I were whole and beautiful

and I think of those
who walk the streets all night
frantic with desire and bruised
by the terrible small lips of rain

I touch you
as a blind man touches the dice
and finds he has won

The storm is showing its tropical origins in more than the mildness of the air. As I posted this entry thunder began rolling. I went to the back porch and saw flashes off lighting all about as the rain poured furiously again. This must be the tail end of it, but it's a very fat tail. A power outage is not out of the question. Must shut the computer down.