1. Something in the dirt that shines like your teeth shine in the bare bulb of my one room shack lays on the floor by the mattress...I know you held it in your hand like the newborn kittens we found under the porch of your mothers house that July day. Muggy. The sun gettin steamed just waiting for the storm to come cool it off. And we were hot too, hoping for the rain to wet our backs through our dusty shirts and turn us to mud.
2. When the rain came we turned. Not to mud but to crying children holding our heads and hands like the kittens moments before. The injustice of that day was the locked door. Stuck in the flood we never turned to mud but the world around us did. It looked to us the heart of the earth colapased under the weight of this little town. All the sadness and sin sucked back in, clean like we could never be. We stayed dirt in the rain.
2. When the rain came we turned. Not to mud but to crying children holding our heads and hands like the kittens moments before. The injustice of that day was the locked door. Stuck in the flood we never turned to mud but the world around us did. It looked to us the heart of the earth colapased under the weight of this little town. All the sadness and sin sucked back in, clean like we could never be. We stayed dirt in the rain.
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i'll pass the word on.