I Like the Rain When I Am Inside

I like the rain when I am inside. The way it slyly breaches the dry concrete and grass, slightly at first. The way it falls with more confidence a few minutes later and the stains it leaves get bigger, until they join up. Then the water is no longer drip-dropping, no longer spraying, but bombing it down. Whack, WHACK, WHACK, take that concrete. I like the way the little boy across the street sticks his face to the glass of the window pane until someone opens it for him to listen to it properly. And smell it and feel it, because it’s not tedious yet.

Tuesday, July 14th 2009