Rain

I contemplate a picture..

mid-afternoon, mid-life

A wall, a wilted plant

A stalemate.

An image takes me there

Again

I'm swept away by images misplaced..

It rains in Pago Pago. 

A simple plot of lust and lost redemption,

in vain

in route to hopefully a better life.

To Hope,

awash in salty breeze and simple virtues.

It rains..

For misfits in exile -- behold

A life

streamlined and steady and defined by tides..

A refuge for a cluttered mind.

A trap..

A bit of both as any good illusion 

the Old Rainmaker

its decaying splendor. 

Abandoned now,

a ghostly Old World post,

its glaring back in black and white,

amiss,

a faded past forgone in living color.

It stands,

resilient to tropical monsoons, 

oblivious to age

and haunted by Ms Sadie. 

A shipwreck of a dream

where everyone is lost

and everyone survives.

It rains

 in Pago Pago.

Ode to water

There must be higher meaning in being mostly water..Fluidity of human nature, elusive, barely contained. How easy it is to bleed out, to ooze out of life.. Flow. Adaptability, taking on traits, much like water takes shape of a vessel, expanding to fill, to explore. There are moods and tides that allow constant motion and growth, just like body of water sustaining abundance of life. I'm an ocean. I weather the storms. I got treasures to hide, got monsters and pirates to feed. Sink or swim..I'm polluted and pure. There is less of me, there is more, streams and currents of anticipation..but it's always calm at the deep end, always tranquil and dark and blue. From a high and low, from a million ways to die, for life, I return to water.