Sometimes A Rainstorm

Sometimes a rainstorm reminds me to sit in easy solitude as you have shown me.  They might assume you were once a bohemian clown with squash blossoms braided around your ankles, the way you lean back and cross your legs, bringing that demitasse cup to your lips, followed by a forkful of smoked cheddar omelet with saffron and wild scallions.  They might assume I was a one-eyed raven sitting atop a totem pole beneath frayed curtains of gray cloud.

Sometimes a rainstorm puts me in the mood for bread and butter, stew and beer, after which I madly wipe the table clear like Nicholson in Five Easy Pieces famously ordering a sandwich.  Then I unroll the scroll of an old tattered map with torn edges, eyes burning like a gold-prospector’s, at which point I try not to forget that empires only do two things: rise and fall.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: