The Wet Wind Splattered
(“Now He who prepared us for this very
purpose is God, who gave us the Spirit as a pledge.” 2 Corinthians 5:5)
He felt the air’s unknown quantities as
the wet wind splattered against his face. Where
had the raindrops vacationed before they
landed
on the field beneath his feet?
He had always dreamed of a
house by the ocean.
He lived on the prairie instead.
The siding is nearly complete on the
new house around the corner.
The workmen eat at the Mexican café.
They order tacos,
he ordered a burger.
They drank water,
he had a beer.
It split his day in half to
sit in the back. He opened his book
and hurried to the end of the chapter,
anxious to start the next one on his list.
But today he felt disconnected
From
the world, though he talked to the waitress,
though he waved at his neighbor.
He was younger yesterday but older
than Monday. He wanted to put away
every tilted distraction that keep him wandering
between tears barely forming,
sighs barely storming on the horizon like
the next thunderstorm chasing him,
breath and step.
He mostly smiled in public, no one deserved
his weepy face. Reserved only for those who
knew already
the source of his distemper, his misadventure
on nearly every piece of land he had paced.
But the rain still dropped from ocean to fields of
grain,
the thunder still rumbled after the hidden lighting struck
nowhere
in particular.
Someone might say he was mostly sour, finally
assessing his silence. Taking his sadness as
ego, they withdrew their offer of condolence. He
withdrew from his own self too.
II.
You do not have a bad attitude.
You
Are
alone.
III.
He was only looking
for his way
home.
