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Silent Conversation

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I hope that you're awake right now during this slight rain storm. Maybe you're staring up at a fuzzy, black above world. Perhaps your mind is wandering from your persistent tum to the way this water makes you think of something else. There might be a close to Christmas candle. Or a close to two o'clock reminder. I'm guessing you're not asleep. But maybe you're dreaming of something you'll forget, seeing someone you wish you could, and slightly smiling at your unconscious reality. There's a glass of water on the closest table. Your moms magazines. Your dad's novel. This thunder sounds like crashing rocks to cardboard. You must be up. Thinking the thunder sounds like a violent tarp fighting with the lights. Or maybe marbles and beach towels. Your eyes will widen like mine do when the thunder sounds and instantly accuse the window of the slight tension you find inside your bones and muscles. The rain then gets steady. Soon violent. And we both realize that rain, after all, could be a too obvious metaphor for our own life.



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