Here they were - my father used to say -
those rays. X of them. And they escaped
the sun as if the could actually run. I stood still.
Not quite old, yet fairly known. It rained once
upon a hill not that far away. But it rained
by the rules. Excluding old houses, the church
and veterans. And those raindrops fell
into the river, then into the sea, into the ocean,
through some more ocean and probably to Australia.
I didn’t go west. They only had words cold as steel
and those promises unstable like a floss. I didn’t,
we didn’t want that. I didn’t intend to stay yet I was
standing there – he would point on the photograph.
- I’ve pulled down the curtains thus faking the night.
Your mother sat beside you restless, singing a lullaby
- he would croon a bit out of tune. But with good
intentions. - and she told you to close your azure eyes,
because even the sky’s had enough
of blue for that day.