We walk along hot in the two in the morning rain. The drops stream down our faces like happy tears. It's hot and the rain bounces off the sidewalks making everything all steamy. Our hair is all wet and mine is stringy down my back. Our feet are splashing in the muddy puddles. But the rain washes us off like soft hot fingers dragging along our bodies. Our hands find each other and we dance. We dance here. And suddenly September seems a million years away and all that exists is this moment. This moment where we are the only two people on the earth. The street is empty of traffic. We're dancing like singing in the rain. We're dancing like elves and like the rain itself. Hot and steamy and drippy fresh wet. And now we know we can be together forever. That there's no such thing as switching schools or sneaky people who steal people right out from under love. There is only our bodies and the dark and our mirror image faces and our hair all wet. I'm wearing an old silk slip from the second hand store. You're wearing your loose gray yoga PJ pants. The rain runs down your bare chest and I can feel the silky fabric sticking to my body. My toes feel their way into the left over squishy gutter leaves. All the curtains are drawn. Nobody else is awake. Maybe we are dreaming. You lift me up a little. The gray hot summer sky slivers and kisses my face as I look up. The rain washes our bodies. I am being baptized. No churches, just outside and in love with you.
After a while it began to get chilly. The wind picked up a bit. We walked back inside feeling wet and foolish. Outside it began to gale.
But that very brief moment was a constant watery sweetness. An aftertaste of a perfect moment.
But September came and the lighting hit the tree outside the house, cracking it down the center, setting it on fire.