Ripples from Raindrops: Jack
Listen to him. Listen to his voice rise up and down like the tidal wave. Watch his
eyes. Focused on the moving speaker even if his head is down.
That I am watching him, so be it. If he is beside me, he is already gone.
Justifiably, he is darkened like the face of burned toast because of his running.
Against the wind, against the sun, fleeing into the sun-toned horizon. His
coppertoned skin gleaming tarnished gold and his hair the same sunshine darkness.
Kissing raindrops on lips accustomed to wheedle instead of whisper.
Tipping back his head in laughter, somehow I catch his eye drifting else where
and instead he is watching me watching him, but in a flash of
light blue gray I am blinded and my dreams cloud my vision, causing me to
kindle a dying clump of embers, and I look back only to find- nothing.