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,

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

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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