March 6, 2022
The city has skipped ahead to Spring, it seems, and today the temperature boasts a balmy, before rain air, a thickness that lines the sky with something like invisible ink, writing out when, exactly, water will fall and if you squint you can read them, I think, the words walking on colorless clouds, stomping when they really want to be heard, as though screaming through steps that send them soaring, slipping now past the pages of the troposphere and onto the blank, pleading pavement.
