When the rain comes, I stare out into it and wish you were
here, and wonder what it might be like to be with you, out there, where old
leaves litter the ground and new leaves just begin to bud, unable to contain
the downpour fall leaves or those more in season might better handle, and I wonder
how it would feel to lay you down, both of us naked and drenched, having my way
with you, filling up each deep crevice as the rain drips off our lips and hips,
our hair drowned, our bodies smothered with each tender embrace, giving warmth
to each other against the still chill aftermath of early spring, what it might
feel like to smear each other, my wet body against yours, to kiss wet lips, to
press wet lips against wet lips, to drink an ambrosia only nature can provide,
and shudder, just to think of it.
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