L'aura del Campo

Fleeing from the rain gang [121]

Fleeing from the rain gang

Smacked by a drop,
I smack back.
But its cousins have noticed,
gathering around,
a wet gang of mobsters,
I swear,
out-to-get-me.
Skies darken with threats,
wet pavement,
wash cars.
Drops try to enter the bakery
where I've fled.
They boom their frustration,
next time!
then take off like a mob,
eager to soak someone else.

© Kåre Enga (4.juni.2017) [174.121]

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