I am happy because it is raining in Oregon.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

I am happy because it is raining in Oregon.

Left the heat on for too long. But now the sky is grey and the air is not.
If water is blue then the air is blue, and it has dragged the orange that sizzles the skin
Down to the ground to drain away the burning grey.

We have slept with damp t-shirts on our faces in our bedrooms with blue walls and popcorn ceilings.
Grandmother has done so too.

One can see past two blocks now.
Grill & Chill was still open. The journey across the desert in the forest in the valley of the General
Must be made to buy that burger with two patties and BBQ sauce and Dr. Pepper with a unicorn on it.
Must be made on foot for cars are too deadly.
But stay inside as much as you can and only travel in a car if you must and don't walk anywhere and
Don't wear that little red t-shirt if you do for your skin will burn and don't wear those black pants for
You'll overheat and really we should look into getting GrubHub for the town so lunch breaks are not
Death sentences.

You can cut your grass now.
You should cut your grass now.
You must cut your grass within the next 10 days or risk a fine of $100 plus equipment and man power
Paid to the service of Bit Torrent so I can watch Sharknado at City Hall.

I have hammered this wooden stake with a loose piece of paper stapled to the top in the forest
You have cultivated, warning that you are a fire hazard and a flicked cigarette could kill us all.
Or a pebble caught in a lawn mower, but cut it still.
My name is on the letter. Remember it was me.

And be thankful for my stake. It could have been a letter stapled right onto your front door
Regarding your illegal camping.
Another thing, don't camp in the smog. You'll die.
Don't smoke in the smog. You'll die for other reasons.
Don't let me bring police to you in the smog or out of it.
You'll be arrested and it'll be your fault. It'll be your fault. It's your fault.
How many times have I arrested every single one of you?
Who are these kids?
You have the right to remain silent.
Can I get my money from her purse? That's her property now.
Pour your shit and piss and blood and filth in front of the door so the leather boots won't enter.
Tear down the building.
My name is one the letter. Remember it was me.

But I am happy because it is raining in Oregon.
The woman with seven teeth and twenty-one roomates and a daughter my age moved out
And the fires got tall.
They should have some damp little red t-shirts though.

And it is raining now. As it does for nine months of the year.
We can see now all the things that had been misplaced in the smoke are being stock-piled.
Tents and t-shirts to dispose of.

I am happy because--I should assume--the rain began when I left for Chicago.


Submitted: August 10, 2020

© Copyright 2022 Glenn B. Rust. All rights reserved.

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