In a rainstorm at 3 in the morning,
we stood on the splintery, worn deck. The sound of rain drops falling,
pattering through planes of branches and leaves on their way to the ground, was
omnipresent. Thousands of white flecks of misty and fat rain glistened in the
lone porch light, but we did not get wet.
I walked the perimeter of the deck and then out onto the yard. Still, I did not get wet. We wiped the plastic arms of patio furniture and thin pools layered over them again, immediately, after our hands glided along them and then away and then were returned. We smoked quickly and tried to disavow ourselves of this miracle. On previous nights, under similar circumstances in this very same spot, we had discussed religion and physics—creation, quantum mechanics, and the Theory of Everything. It was odd that we would be the ones to experience something unexplained.
Patter of drops still continuing, field-stripped cigarette cherries kicked out in the grass, dulled, and we went inside and finished our whiskeys and then dreamed.
I walked the perimeter of the deck and then out onto the yard. Still, I did not get wet. We wiped the plastic arms of patio furniture and thin pools layered over them again, immediately, after our hands glided along them and then away and then were returned. We smoked quickly and tried to disavow ourselves of this miracle. On previous nights, under similar circumstances in this very same spot, we had discussed religion and physics—creation, quantum mechanics, and the Theory of Everything. It was odd that we would be the ones to experience something unexplained.
Patter of drops still continuing, field-stripped cigarette cherries kicked out in the grass, dulled, and we went inside and finished our whiskeys and then dreamed.
All content ©Dario DiBattista 2012. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.
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