A Summer's Rain

I stood on the porch and flicked the ashes of my cigarette into the cedar chips. I watched the runoff from the eaves beat the ashes into the ground.

I was overtaken by the urge to run naked through the rain. I decided against this -- not for the fear of exposing my body to the eyes of the neighbors but for fear they'd think I was crazy. They'd think I'd had too much wine. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I had had too much wine, but there was something about the thought of the warm water beating against my flesh. Something about forgetting my problems and inhibitions. Something that I just could not resist.

I stuck my foot out into the downfall and thought -- no one could think like this and not write.

So, instead of frolicking drenched through the neighborhood, I found a pen.