Street River


It rained yesterday. It’s raining now.
It rained all of last year and the many years before.
My skin has been transformed
into a wrinkled, soggy, irritated encumbrance

from constantly trudging through floods.
The clouds have always been morose
always pissing on the city
whenever the sun attempted to unveil its face.

The floods converged to form a river
the river careens through the streets
submerging each car under its frame
and drowning life wherever it finds it.

Thunder and lightning inside and out
I open my mouth and swallow gulps
of bitter rain—the freezing rain
colliding with my face like blind bullets.
I’ll never die of thirst.

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