Resolving the rain

Did it rain where you are? Did the sky open and touch you in measures in light misty sheets of refractions, your hair iridescent shining to extremities, tips on fingers and toes square line drawn in the flume below the swell of your lower lip.

In the transient shine of positively charged blacktop, the hiss of vapors releasing the deep heat of summer, would you know in your walk from car to front porch that you stepped trippingly between two dreams with all the grace I assigned you when I specified you in blushing diagramatic detail before we ever met.

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And where she walks the Newtonian continuum slows by exactly one millionth a click, like a projectionist nodding at the wheel.

And when she talks music is the constant measurement of distance and the ebb and flow rocks me into my own sopoforic bliss.

Hypothesize rendered to my own self, logged and noted, yes, we believe it.

We learned gang of heathens in pencils and lab coats hold forth like satyrs in proclamations of all things both divine and profane.

Resolve: the mist shines about your face to the measureless depths of your eyes. We believe it is there, and hold that all moments simultaneous, it is was and shall be.

We would never wipe away its mystery.

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