Picnic in the Rain

rain

I want to watch it rain. I want to walk underneath a tortured sky and look at all the pretty buildings while taking pictures of their architecture on the darkest days. I want to be cold and wet on a sidewalk in the middle of nowhere. All dressed up. All made up. And let the rain wash it all away into nothingness.

I want to peel the paint off the walls and uncover the coats of thirty years ago, moldy from the rain and faded. And I want to eat cheese and crackers in a dilapidated kitchen, falling apart, without working appliances while it pours outside. No heaters, broken windows, still cold and wet. With my damn cheese and crackers. Who said I can’t have a picnic by myself?

I want doors that don’t lock, and drawers that won’t close. I want to be where everything creeks and the bulbs are exposed, providing the only light against an angry sky. I want only one couch, torn and stained on a cement floor where I can watch the rain bleeding into the living room through the cracks in what used to be windows but are now only panes with peeling white paint. I can sit and watch the puddle on the floor grow and not care. The sun can dry it up tomorrow. Today I would just like to sit and stare for a while.

Spring is coming, or maybe it went, with all its promises of showers and flowers and saccharine nonsense. Spring is awful. Except for the chocolate eggs. I suppose those are okay.

I want sheets of water falling from the sky to deface the earth and baptize and sterilize. I want to watch it fall, almost afraid to go outside, but too giddy not to. I want to touch it, testing its strength one limb at a time, extending my arm from underneath a useless umbrella and letting the jet ricochet and splash the rest of me. I want to be drenched and cold until I am numb. With a box of assorted crackers and a package of brie. Sitting on the hood of my car taking it all in. Who said I can’t have a picnic by myself?

I want a cup of hot coffee in my hand and icy water on my forehead. I want to shiver to tears while the rain washes it all away. Diluting my coffee and cleansing my face.

I want to flirt with pneumonia and feel alive once more if that is what it takes. With now watered down coffee, soggy crackers and mushy cheese. I will just have a picnic by myself.

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