11
Apr
09

untitled 3- 4/10/09

The watery hiss

Of wet tires

Creeps in

Through the open window,

As I sit

In the near dark

Of my tiny apartment

Listening

To the rare rain

Of a Southern California spring.

The light from outside

Strikes the floor

In slices,

Coming through the blinds

And the spotted window.

From time to time,

The Friday night

Footsteps

Click and shuffle

On the wet sidewalk

And umbrellas,

Pulled from hibernation

In forgotten closets,

Cover two heads

From the drizzling sky.

Timothy Vance Jackson

April 10, 2009

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