In the year two zero
zero zero
hundreds of men
and women
shifted gears
from high school
to college
someone forgot
to engage the clutch
and the trasmission is lying
smoking
on the interstate
Travelling 100 miles east, the sky changes. The clouds disappear, but it's more than that. The sky opens up, is bigger, the sun is a little sharper, and the colors are a little starker, like a photo airbrushed just a bit too much.
You get used to it after a while. You don't have to squint anuymore, it's just the way things are. The trees are dusty dry, and the sky is flat and huge. You lose the feeling that you're missing among the brilliant colors.
It rained today.
A few large drops at first, barely enough to notice, starting to streak down the window. But it came up fast, low gray clouds rolled over the sky silently. They came dow
the smell of rain
is something universal
spiritural
which is ironic
because
i think
it is cause by rain
on conrete
the conrete jungle
the urban wasteland
sprawl
the flat gray awkwardness
that we love to hate
can be so beautiful
that we don't even realize it
i guess the moral is
there's beauty in everything
or maybe just
that something so universal
is cause by rain
on conrete
which is ironic
i think