It Rains for Me

I knew you were talking about the rain when you said it would be alright.

But I opened my eyes anyway and kept to the horizon.

Salt water and bullshit stung my face.

You said once the rain stopped the water would be smooth.

Like glass.

So my soul gave my conscience the thumbs up and went in search of calmer seas.

And found them.

It's agitating that she is fretting about not having butter for the biscuits when it's taking everything I have to not call and cancel the whole thing.

I expect I could blame it on the lack of butter, but he would know immediately it's because I am afraid.

That's dramatic. And presumptuous.

I would never use butter, or the lack there of, as an excuse for anything. And he wouldn't know - immediately.

But isn't butter an easier explanation for the past 30 years.