puddles at sunset

rubber boots:
tracing with your finger
the orange line around the boots’ rim

= splash =
without getting your pants wet

asking “why do dead animals smell so bad
but dead plants and earth smell so good?”

overhearing the silly talk of grownups laughing:
man says:
“why don’t we hire danish waitresses
to work in the restaurant
modeling wedding underwear?”
over my dead body” says a woman, scarily;
man answers:
“it would be perfect, something for everyone:
wedding stuff for women, lingerie for the men,
and after those cartoons
the danes will do anything to please people”
and all the adults laugh again

the workers in the street in the rain
have those bright yellow raincoats and look
like giant bananas

bicycle bell goes “ching chk, ching chk”
doesn’t ring quite right on the way back

loved jennifer in her macintosh coat
in rain like this;
somewhere i have a photo of us together
sitting on an iron bench
in trafalgar square

lightning: ^flash^
one one thousand two one thousand *crash*
storm still half a mile away

running home splashing,
warm lights on the front porch
kitchen smells wafting — onions frying yum
this is home

holding the thick blades of weed-grass rough
wet and fuzzy, sideways between your thumbs
and blowing — loud buzz
tickles your lips

“it’s ok kitty, just a storm,
sit here beside me on the steps
and i’ll protect you, keep you warm —
hey! that rhymes!”

kitty scampers away,
different from how dogs run,
and the rain
slows to a trickle,

once kissed debbie’s scraped knee
playing tag, in the rain
she smelled funny-nice —
she has pretty eyes

in the magnifying glass
with the sun coming out, nearly six o’clock
everything, even these tiny ants
look huge

throw the ball against the front steps
ten times, add your total,
ten points if you catch it
(without a glove)
five if after one bounce
four for two, three for three,
two points for four bounces,
one point for grounders
zero for bobbles and out-of-bounds
try to beat 72 best score
(that’s a B in school)

always after the rain,
the mourning dove song —
when i first heard it
i thought it was an owl

puddles at
sunset, sharp-angled bold rays of sun
low, through the trees
so you have to shade your eyes

breeze comes up, now



Photo of Davezilla’s cat Jade by Rannie at Photojunkie.ca.

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