january rain
she told me she liked a good cliché
liked how it felt against the
tip of her tongue
she was the kind of gal
who loved to french kiss for hours
or so she told no one
I remember her telling me on
new year’s eve
to be at the bus stop at noon
where she’d pick me up and
we’d go picnicking in the park
it rained throughout the night
and well into the morning
and though the buses don’t
run on sundays
there I sat in the dark
wondering where she was
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
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