water pools in the drive-way mixing with motor oil, black-top. a flow, a stream, a rainbow hurricanes into the drainage ditch. but it's not nearly fast enough. over-flow. small floods.memories, tide pools.
summer heat is followed by mid afternoon summer storms. reducing the mood to a purer state. i fold paper sail-boats looking out the window. stuck inside. we are always stuck inside for something, stuck inside because of rain or work or the oppressive humidity. stuck inside our own heads, thoughts of sweat and fuck and silence. It is that kind of summer holiday. the long sight lines, the emptiness, the building wind. I fall into myself. thunder-storms. the soft tap of rain against the window. i wish you were here.
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