Sunday morning because it wouldn't stop preaching about the trinity as your father did when you were a child in Africa. The LSD wore off sooner than you could accept and the spiritual experience you had longed for passed without time to say that you didn't mean to leave me again with so little notice. Really, nothing else I could absolve and my skin so grimy that no amount of washing would ever make me whole again.
After we argued the merits of Dharma, I closed the door and walked the short way back through July rain. Summers aren't suppose to linger on this way
after thirty days without end. I glided across the broken concrete; surprised by the way a drop of water clings to the edge of a bright green leaf.
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