13 August 2013
7:42 AM


Have I ever told you how much I love rain? Even with all the typhoons. Even when it floods. Even when it puts out the electricity and we’re hunting for candlesticks and matches in the dark. Even if there is massive traffic as a result, or the neighbour’s trash washing up on the canal in front of our house. Even if it meant postponing the laundry another day. Even if my left shoulder hurts, deep in its socket, as if remembering the accident.

The rain washes and washes and washes.

Cave Dwellers
A. Poulin, Jr.

I’ve carved a cave in the mountainside.
I’ve drilled for water, stocked provisions
to last a lifetime. The walls are smooth.
We can live here, love, safe from elements.
We’ll invent another love that can’t destroy.
We’ll make exquisite reproductions of our
selves, immortal on these walls.

                                                 And when
this sea that can’t support us is burned clean,
when the first new creatures crawl from it,
gasping for water, air, more wondrous and more
wild than earth’s first couple, they shall see
there were two before them: you and me.

Outside the street is wet, the wind is cool, the dog is playing in a puddle, and the water falls like a curtain.

Good morning,


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