droplets fall onto thirsty soil,
pregnant with the weight
of time
and endless possibilities.

“wash me down by the riverbed,”
she said.
“don’tcha bring me back up
until i’m clean,
clean,
clean.”

i didn’t know how to tell her 
that it just doesn’t work like that.
and then…
well, i never saw her again.

sometimes,
when it rains,
i think about her.

i wonder if she found what she was looking for
and how many times she had to be baptized 
for her soul to feel
new again. 

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