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Still waiting for you here at the bottom of the fountain as fat raindrops flop atop the surface sending ripples left, right, center. Ruffles sink to where what’s absent isn’t among what’s fallen. White blossoms, now colorless (that I once meant to put aside in a cup but didn’t) are clumped at the fountain’s stone edge. I did inhale their scent once-upon-a-time with lowered eyelids, my ears hoping for the anticipated cent.

Blown dandelion seeds and a black spider (maybe dead, maybe not, that’s curled like a tiny fist) clump when a whiffle of wind bends the falling rain. The wind effectively up-ends Aladdin’s Lamp that’s been bobbing for days. Just now, despite rain, wind, the squeal of breaks, the Lamp is plucked by a girl hurrying home carrying a pillow-case that has a newborn puppy inside. Believe it or not, the Lamp’s genie is intact.

If you look past your own woozy reflection, you will notice Virginia Woolfe’s earring lying at the bottom, on it’s side. The milky pearl is still as perfect as a free day. An aluminum beer tab and an apple core are also visible (slightly magnified). Soon rain turns to sleet. It’s getting dark. The temperature doesn’t drop but the wind shuts up shop and goes home.

 

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