Missing the Nooks and Crannies
It's 6:00 in the evening
But I don't notice the time
(I'm too busy smelling rain on the wind
and thinking about how lovely grapefruit smells in the shower
and how I look for love in all the worst boys)
And the puddles of milky brown water
have been sitting in my filthy street since six o' clock two days ago.
The mud in the back of the house
has grown black and toxic,
and clings to the soles of shoes
even when wiped on the doormat.
The phone keeps ringing for wrong numbers
and the birds keep cawing for the wrong chicks
and the humidity filtering through the window screen
is choking in my throat
with cloying sweetness akin to honeysuckle.
and in three months time,
more or less,
it will be fall
and rain will not smell sweet
but cold and citric
and sharp with the fierce tang
of little girls
who swear they will not grow up.