Summer Rain

On a hot June day

I sat on the pier

My legs dangling

Not unlike the participle

So misplaced by the news anchor in her story of the missing person

Poor woman whose remains were found

She suffered one last indignity

A victim of bad grammer

And here I sit in the middle of an early summer heatwave

Thinking about you

And waiting for my next period

To end the next run on sentence

Of misplaced love

Which you said was never only about sex or that’s what you told me

That last night in your arms

And I cried inside

Not where you could see me

I wasn’t raised that way

You poured us a drink and said you were going on tour

I wrote two songs that day because you asked me

I had misgivings probably because the new soloist was singing my songs and sharing your bed

Where is the pragmatism in that

A coyote was spotted in the city the news anchor said, her eyes glistening

And there was your image on a website offering tickets to your next concert

I closed my laptop and left the pier when it started to rain

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