Umbrella Means Dry Head, Wet Legs

The rain fell like a quilt of spring. I smoked and smoked and walked the side streets home. The darkness made the drops light up in streetlights. Glancing up, I knew which way to angle my umbrella. I had to hold the cigarette close to my mouth to keep it from getting wet. I worried that I looked like an aristocrat getting ready to say something important. I didn’t want to say anything. And I just like the look of a blazer.

I wondered about choices and destiny. I don’t know if either exist. If Mercury is in retro, does that really mean that electroncis and appliances go haywire? How could it? Appliances and electronics have nothing to do with the stars…or is it everything? Magnets…orbits…lightning…

Heat Lightning.

A friend that recently moved to Chicago had never heard of heat lightning. He thought I was lying. I asked around to make sure I wasn’t. To make sure I wasn’t had (like the popular jackelope trick for the kids). Others knew of it and have seen it. I’ve seen it. August bonfires, cookouts, lit up with the humid flashes in the sky. No danger…no more than regular lightning. Ground to cloud, cloud to cloud, lover to lover…it’s all bright, hot, and dangerous.

No lightning tonight. Just the rain. Large puddles that the overused sewer system spill out like a tub that fills very fast reflecting the streetlights showing the rain and the angles.

All is quiet on the midwestern front…including my head, legs, body, and C chord.

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