Clouds cover us like a spaceship straight from mars, large drops threatening to make us cringe when hitting our bodies like icicles. A lion growls in the distance, waiting to attack. I take your hand, scooping you up as your hat falls behind, now a goner to the drowning that will soon occur. The door creaks behind me, making me pause as I remembered my old porch of forgotten burdens. All the nights under the summer rain of panicked touches as if we knew our time was running out and all the cigarettes burned too quickly, permanently staining our breath like a cult symbol. I can still taste the aftertaste. Now here we are, child of mine, us against the world. Your grasp tightens against my neck as the rain falls against the sky lights as if knocking as an invitation to be let in and I let the couch absorb us as we wait on the porch and listen to the summer rain until you fall asleep, still entangled in my arms
