The rain came, but it was a tease, a temporary reprieve from
the plague of heat, less an oasis than an almost dry hole, wet, yet not wet
enough to whet our thirst – this craving for more than a sip our paunch lips longed
for, for something more lasting, something to drench our souls with, to dip
more than just our toes in, no longer leaping into the deep end as we once did,
yet wishing we still could, wonder if we would survive, or would we once again
come too close to drowning, this tease just enough to make the longing all that
much more acute, to make the suffering worse, this thirst more intense, and
yet, as I stick my feet out into it, I am grateful for having felt it at all,
one small kiss of something I will always ache for; I am perpetually thirsty,
even at those times when I am clearly in over my head.
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