On the Third Day

Another soggy morning

I text my love

on the third day of rain

who likes to receive

cheery aubades.

Try squeezing some goodness

out of this one, I say

as the clothes look bedraggled

on the line

sodden, sorry smiles.

It’s La Nina, I say

you’ll have to stay out there

a little longer.

F**k La Nina,

my ripped jeans snarl.

They always had an attitude problem.

19 thoughts on “On the Third Day

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