In The Rain

distances
footsteps creaking on the uncertainty
as my slippers
slip and slide on the smooth roads of
rushing water. My parents are at home,
of course.

Where is my destination? I find park, a hole
a ditch, some shelter under the trees
ignoring the chasing leaves that
nag:

go home
go home.

I don’t want to go home.
Their warm, red faces with hands, soft
Love, words cracking under the pressure
pain, reality. what have you done?!
and in my gut, a hole.

This is my home now,
beneath the skies and the thin
cotton on my back and the worn
jeans on my moving legs.

The sky is dark again, as I sat and waited
- streaking silences,
wrapped their arms around me
and
slept.