To the catalyst -A Poem by M. ShepherdEmmm - context on part II - I've been collecting signatures for a petition door to door. In Portland's signature downpours.
I.
These silver dollars of torrent try to pelt us but your windshield stops them short and in a way we stay dry. Outside they hide the sidewalks and wash away my old life, already receding into a horizon I can't see behind me. We arrive on the moon, or summer camp, or grandma's house, or a dream. It's the place underneath the stairs where I hid on the first day of kindergarten. Under here the immense world out there exists as something that does not belong to me so I don't have to carry it around. And oh, here you are, here you have been. II. Sometimes I sit in your love like it's a giant plush armchair, I'm out in the rain but impervious to that cosmic spittle or to the spittle that spills from lips and eyes, The spittle clouds filled with acid torrents of "no no no not tonights" The hard hailstones of "can't you see it says no soliciting" You'd think in this deluge I'd emerge perhaps a little waterlogged, a sewer rat drenched in all the world's saliva and birth control hormones, scurrying home with my grimy scraps that will mutate me back to the oblivion from which I slithered, lithe as an ermine, but steam billows off my body as though I am a banister in the morning sun. © 2016 M. ShepherdReviews
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Added on November 15, 2016Last Updated on November 15, 2016 AuthorM. ShepherdPortland, ORAboutLate bloomer and shy of sharing I'm ever reticent to reveal But here I am, ready. more..Writing
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