All the cracks

Ms. Moon, There was another shoe this morning. The previous pair was gone, but replaced by a lone woman’s black slip on. I’d suspect a shoe-exchange if there was a match, but it sat there soggy around people waiting for the bus.
Last night it poured like it hasn’t poured since the monsoons. Early this morning a heartbeat dripped from the roof onto tin. Tet tet. Tet tet. Tet tet. It became a tell tale amplified in our ear drums keeping us awake. I had a dream I was watching the world spin in the sky: Africa, Ocean, strata, atmosphere all from a lawn chair in suburbia. I was on the moon or somehow removed. The earth like a mobile or a storm cloud rotating above me, so I couldn’t see the whole circumference, just small sections as they passed by. I watched the sunset, the shadows and as my world grew dark as well, I picked myself up and went inside.

Phoenix is not made for the rain. At Trader Joe’s the checkers were telling everyone to drive safe in the weather. ha! And our apartment ceiling is leaking all over Pat’s sister’s bed – yellow stain urine drips. When I opened the door to leave, the light fixture in the hallway was dripping water as well. The rain breaks everything here. So much dry air and sun, when it rains all the cracks appear.

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