the rain comes

rain: v.tr. :to give abundantly; shower. you can smell the rain as it slowly creeps in from the ocean, sliding south along the coast, clouds folding themselves around the islands and the mountains one misty inch at a time. browned out grasses and bone dry leaves parched from a few weeks without rain, hardly the dry land I am used to. interlude: winged ant or strange wasp-like creature. silverfish? I know not, fluttering by the light, looking for a lover no doubt. captured amidst screaches and squeels before being released from the patio. all to the broken beat tempo of hiphop. flashing red lights on the pattollo bridge, winking in the twilight, promising magical secrets to anyone with a bit of daring and the will to climb on up there and take a look. fade in.... fade out... still sticky from another humid-warm day, living in a box that is made of sunlight and cedar smells. drinking tequila in heavy shot glasses of bubbly clear and green glass. three to two, I lag behind with tear and sweat stained eyes. fade in... fade out... a fan blowing in my eyes in the warm glow of paper lanters and crt monitors. the led's fade in... fade out... back back back to the story I was talking about. or not.