Wet Rain Poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
Wet Rain
Every time it rains and the yellow smoke slides, we become one. Your shirt, cold, wet as my cardigan lean silently in the mist; our bodies in a thousand and one nights on the bike. I ask you, 'Are you okay? ' You keep driving, fast on the road… The rain excites the wind. They soak the ground. 'I'm wet. I'm so wet, ' you keep saying. I know you are. That makes me miss you.
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5/7/2024 6:10:58 PM # 1.0.0.1119
