without inhibition

B and I
dance like gypsies
when the rain comes
down in fat drops
breaking on the impact
against our heads.
And once, when it poured
we swam in the crevices
of alley ways with dead leaves
and plastic cups, our feet
barely visible in the murky pools.
We sat on the edge of sidewalks
talking about men or the next
steps from here, letting the rain
soak us up. B and I, we carry
our sandals, choose to walk
bare-feet and wily--
me in longs skirts,
her in shorts. I crack jokes
about the pavement, better than pedicures,
our soles burning quietly
from the abrasive ground. She mentions
about how romantic kisses are
in times like these.
I say, we need men,
in rains like these.
B and I, we will walk home
looking like a picture,
two girls hand in hand
best friends, dancing like
gypsies down the sidewalk.

posted by meg johnson @ Sunday, November 27, 2005