Visual acuity registered poor and begot bad decisions.
Puddles exploded in measured bursts,
as my cobbled soles ranged uneven ground.
Outerwear did little to divert the assault.
Eventually, socks and underwear captured the glory of the flood.
It seemed as if Noah was imminent.
He never showed.
Just soiled and saturated beasts,
two by two, three by three,
a bathtub lottery.
Dam burst. Capacity exceeded.
squeaked through the depot.
Hurried and hydrated forever.
Plumes of water overtook curb-stranded souls,
that waited for the WALK signal.
A moist menagerie,
stupefied by ambitious clouds.
It was not joyful.
A very special thanks to LR for simply saying : It Was Not Joyful
40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam is a ongoing project in which people have joined me for 40 days and 40 nights of on-demand poetry. They have submitted the concepts, ideas, and subjects; I’ve done the rest.
It looks like a stream of consciousness, but it is more of a happy accident. As I couldn’t write down my thoughts on the way to the train this morning due to rain, I engaged the speech to text function of my phone. Apparently, my phone cannot catch my words wrapped in the Boston accent. I was quite amused by what resulted. Here it is unedited. I find it has a poetry all its own…
Rain dancer rain dancer prancer caught in the space between the rain the raindrops wrinkles top me how to dance in the rain three missing Sporto squash gravesite what prayer was a minute give me a jacket what without the aid of an umbrella what’s almost camouflage four should be lying about what brothers are curious thanks they open and close and they can umbrella without the clause