It started
to sprinkle as I stepped onto the porch.
But this far
into the drought I didn’t turn back for an umbrella.
I dared the
sky to soak me to the skin as I headed for the river.
But the dark
gray cloud came to nothing more than a tease.
I’d like to
think the sky was bluffing,
but I
suspect it didn’t even notice my play,
walking
defiantly through the dusty alley.
I’m not the
master at this game,
but only one
of us can die laughing.
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