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summer rain

There are silver cars swerving down the street in the rain, the mid-June rain with a shy sun, and the houses glow with yellow light, the gold in the silver in the rain. And the people are in the silver cars, and the white and blue and black ones, people with pale fleshy skin waiting for the sun, or waiting for the green light. And the people are going home, to turn on yellow lights, to cook dinner or be served dinner, to watch sitcoms and do homework and sleep, to cycle in and out of comfortable days and call it living. And the people make up towns, and the towns are all the same but they form rivalries and call it entertainment, and they take pride in living within their invisible borders, and they get in their cars and zoom past middle school kids who have to walk, and the middle school kids grow up and zoom past the new middle school kids, completing the cycle. And the parking lots are wet on this mid-June rainy evening, and behind the 7-Eleven there is a girl chewing a wet cigarette and crying hot tears that mix with the rain and paint her cheeks where he used to kiss her. And in another town behind the Hess Express there is a boy cursing and red-eyed, choking on the taste of her mouth because she poisoned his memories when she left him behind. They have never met and their towns hate each other. Watch. There are two pairs of open arms that won’t meet, ever, not by accident at a boozy house party and not on purpose at an awkward blind date and not even brushing by one another at the mall, there are so many kisses that will never be born. Watch. The cars are stopping and slowing and speeding and colliding. They are parking and turning and beeping and passing. And they are the days spent indoors sheltered from the rain and they are the people hidden behind the convenience stores. They are the people treating the person behind the counter like a dim-witted child. He was an accountant in Bangladesh. She was a lawyer in Pakistan. Who were you in your past life? Sometimes the girl behind the 7-Eleven thinks we were made for more than the boxes we put ourselves in. Sometimes the boy behind the Hess Express thinks these towns are all part of the same thing anyway. And people were made for more than suburbs in the summer and pouring rain on car roofs. People were made for forehead kisses and every gleaming drop of water in the sea and the way going barefoot in the grass makes your heart level out in your chest and the way the forest is always clean even through the dirt. People were made for children and laughing and people were truly made for happiness, down at the core, through the muck and the slop and the slime they put themselves through, they were made for the moments where your smile just won’t go away. They were made for the things that don’t let your smile go away.


Nicely done. 

Your piece is absolutly full of truth. 

From the moment I started reading the first line, I had to continue reading. 

You really dragged me into it. 

Just to be short, I loved it.