Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
The aftermath of forgotten rain.
The onset of a slightly odd but gentile fog
puts the world into my everyday perspective
No need for clarification.
Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
You came smell the sent of Eucalyptus,
pine even
clearer than any other time.
Streetlights reflecting on the endless black asphalt
while run off empties into gutters.
Sadly
they are the closest to a river some will ever know.
As kids we would race bottle caps.
The first to disappear ironically won.
Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
I go in when the song is over.
In spring the rain stops
but you never know
when it decides to rain again.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
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