The Woodward Post

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Poem: A Step Outside

When I heard raindrops 

pattering down the roof,

I went outside. 

It had been a few days

Since my feet had touched a ground

That was not cold tile, glossy wood, or hair-infested carpet.

Instead, my feet slipped into worn shoes

older than I was, 

dead bugs

hanging around the sole of the dirty slippers. 

When I stepped into the muggy heat,

I smelled a day 

stuffed to the brim with endless to-do lists,

a day 

where we could complain of the stifling heat,

gurgling in the pools of our sweat.

We embraced the hideous torture to be together.

The smell was heavy and thick,

And I stood and stood and stood

under the ledge 

remembering, 

when clouds thunderously clapped for the charged heat of slippery, glowing bodies,

for the sighs that slid out of our mouths and mingled with other rustling breaths,

when we were struck by lightning with metal umbrellas over our heads,

plaid boxers and unzipped zippers out and about

Enormous, rolling waves of trees and vibrant skies 

melding together as I stumbled,

drunk on too many giggles.