puddle

“Please come dive in puddles with me” – It seems every word leads to a Saves The Day song. London raindrops hitting cobblestones and washing away chalk pavement pictures in some Mary Poppins alternate reality. It could be happening right now. Puddle as in, a small shallow pool of water. But it could be more than water. It could be blood. It could be orange juice. Breakfast table set with eggs and bacon and fresh fruit. Maybe oranges that I will not eat and keep to the side. “Order up!” bell goes off in an old fashioned diner on this Black Friday morning. Black Friday, which I once wrote a song about 5 years ago. I first attempt into my 24/7 project. Galoshes splash. Waking up from a thought. Bringing one back to reality. The sky is overcast and grey and I feel a chill in the air. Dampness pervades even the thickest of layers. Why go outside if you don’t have to? The world looks like a black and white movie, devoid of color. The smell of damp earth and the pores of the world open up to receive a big, long drink. The drops of rain hit my glasses and I leave them there, my vision blurred, it’s useless. I probably don’t have an umbrella. It’s too much to carry around. Too much to think about. I’d rather just get wet – The feeling when you step into a puddle and it’s deeper than you thought. Or maybe there was no choice, no way around it. Both sneaker and sock completely saturated. First there is surprise and disbelief. Then, there is resigned acceptance of what just occurred. Knowing you can’t do anything unless you have an extra pair of socks and shoes with you. Oh, but that “splooshy” sound every time you walk. It can get so annoying. The damp foot, now growing cold, gets so uncomfortable. Coldness mixed with wetness is one of the worst feelings. The “moat” that forms on Broadway and 66th street. What a mess. The times I’ve gotten splashed by passing cars on the side of the curb on a rainy day.

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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