Puddles
Three days of summer rain thunder past, on noisy tracks. You smell it, and feel its sprays, from the safety of Grandma’s screened porch. Crickets and grasshoppers replace el-trains and car horns. Mouth full of bubble gum and canvas Chucks on your feet. All of the essentials are present, except the whisper in your ear, which says “Capture this moment. You’re gonna need it in about forty years.”
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