It lingers in my head, those words she said to me. The rain rattling echoes on the tin roof of my mind drip with the reminder. She said please. She never says please. Not like that. Water is relentless and smooth and with time, defeats all things. She is normally like this, implacable and successful in an almost brutal way. To have her speak to me plaintively, pleadingly, is almost perverse. Obscene. Like watching a proud man cry in public. It doesnt. Happen. I dont know what to do with it besides forget it. If it does not evaporate it will sink into me and change me and I will become something else. Change isn’t anathema. I know that. But what she’s asking.. a stone carved sculpture and a water worn natural monument, which do you think feels more pain?

















