R.A.D. Stainforth in his rainy black and white world...
is rain-splotched
from a long walk home.
You're shy, just bad-tempered enough
to refuse an umbrella or car.
At the center of my heart, I listen
for the hydroplane of your shoes in the hall.
I anticipate the underwater look in your eyes,
your full damp-wool embrace,
the scent of your hair
in my face,
like an expensive hand-rolled Cuban cigar.
tk/June 2012
 |
| Puddle, 1952, M. C. Escher Join The Mag creative writing group. |
