Friday Evening

The rough cracking of an early summer rain creeps through the windows where I wait. Here is the moment in which I will decide the destination of this night. The moving sounds all around push your conscience to decide, but the answer seems to elude you, and crawl back to its dark and cluttered place to hide.

There is no doubt in this fragile and ragged run mind of mine that my heart wants to follow the cracking rain, to the lights of where things are stirring and twirling, moving and grooving.

But still, the cotton pull of t-shirt, and the comfort calling of these gym shorts make me wonder if the lights and twirls will hold for me what I'm looking for on this rain cracking evening.

This Friday evening.