It’s
raining out.
The peaceful fall of water
washing away everything you left behind.
It’s one of the few moments
it gets quiet around here.
The neighbor’s kids
are shut up in their homes.
Sometimes
it only lasts a few minutes,
other
times it lasts for hours,
either way
it always gives us a break
from everything.
Once it
stops,
the
sirens pick up;
the car
speakers start thumping,
trailer
park mothers start screaming,
and the
children are back
spewing
their inbred hatred
amongst
everything.
Out of
state northerners
think of
this as “The Sunshine State”,
never
realizing
how it rains here
three
to four months out of the year.
They
create an image of some sun-drenched haven, of old leathery people, orange
groves, mobile home parks with alligator mascots
and a
great big talking mouse.
It
rains.
The
short pissers do nothing but turn everything into a contaminated sauna.
The
air thickens with moisture and automobile exhaust and the rotten smell of burnt
sulfur
from
the fertilizer plants miles away.
Within
a few minutes you feel as dirty as a cheap whore after she’s been raped on
Sunday.
It
rains.
Big,
thick, monstrous clouds
that you
can see forming on the horizon;
you can
witness them moving over the land
black
and blue bruised divinities
pouring
out all around us.
Nothing
but falling rain walls that hit the ground so strong
that
everything vibrates.
We all get floated away in a maelstrom of flooded streets and overfilled retention
ponds.
Just
lie back and close your eyes;
Mother
Nature is washing
her
sexual organs.
Rains
slowing,
almost
gone,
I can
already hear some far away ambulance
screaming
its way
to some
dead boy in the street.
The trailer park queen just realized
life
has been unfair,
leaving
her with three kids
and
no smokes or drink
to
get through it all.
The
neighbor’s kids are already making their way
to
newly born puddles.
With
any luck they’ll trip
and
fall,
drowning
themselves
in
the tar-oil-water-mixture.
It
rained.
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