THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

I remember the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t remember when. I don’t remember why. I do remember where; Minneapolis, Minnesota.

There was a girl. We met in Maine. We met again two years later in Massachusetts. She moved to Minnesota in that phase after a first kiss when colors vibrate and whistle tunes.

I worked two jobs for two months. I bought a flight to Minneapolis. I told her I loved her. She took me to a rave with her friends. It was a Friday. The music was loud, so loud it made my bones ache. I sat in a corner drawing cartoons on coasters. She danced. I left for a cigarette. It was cold; late fall, maybe. The lights were on in a bar across the street.

I don’t remember crossing the road. I remember sitting at the bar. It was light there. The bartender made…