Rain falls overhead

like a thousand lazy suns

living just a second on the glass,

until swish:

the windshield is clean and swish:

the light no longer blinds and swish:

the grass shines an 8 PM gold until swish:

you tell me I’m beautiful on the drive home

and there just isn’t that much to talk about.

 

Now half asleep on the couch I wonder

have we always been so small,

still two kids,

each of us lost

a moment in the world.

 

Rain falls overhead

 

and swish.