Lost or fall
About a week ago. I lost an umbrella. Not a good umbrella. A very cheap umbrella.
Its late in the fall. The weather's been really nice. So, I decided to not replace it.
Next day. Not two days later. Not three days later. Yes, the very next day. In fact the very next morning. It rained.
It didn't rain light. It didn't drizzle. The skies became grey. Not a light grey, they became a dark grey. The kind of grey that lingers.
Now this would only go on for a day. Its late fall. I could live with that.
Four days later. Not one. Not two. Not three. Yes four days later. It was still grey. It was still rainy. And yes it was still that moody grey. The grey that lingers. The grey that sinks. The grey that says, "I'm the atmosphere. I am pissing on you."
So two days ago, in the afternoon, I went to the cheap umbrella store. I bought. Yes, I bought a cheap umbrella. It had that cheap fabric pouch. Its the virgin pouch. That sort of fabric pouch that once the umbrella is first deployed you can't get that sucker back covering the shrivelled umbrella matrix. Its the kind of umbrella that says. "I'm cheap. Lose me."
One day later. The very next morning in fact. I was chilly. But the weather was really nice. Its the kind of leaf kicking day. The sort of day when you amble through the city park and kick through the piles of leaves. That fall beaming day that says "I'm the atmosphere, I'm a sunny smiling little bitch."
Its the kind of fall day you think about pumpkins. One thinks of Halloween and plan expertly for that evening. The apartment darkens like an ancient tomb. Beware to all who intrude. Its the fall day when to one's self the wheels whirl, "Heh, heh, heh. Yes I will turn out the lights, close the curtains, and use earphones. I will not answer the door for those tackily disguised yuppy puppy snot monsters."
There sits my umbrella. Today all around the city rains fall. It says so on the radar. But as the water clouds reach the city the foul weather dissipates. I stare on at the closet hook. There it is. The cheap umbrella still protected by its hymen pouch.
About a week ago. I lost an umbrella. Not a good umbrella. A very cheap umbrella.
Its late in the fall. The weather's been really nice. So, I decided to not replace it.
Next day. Not two days later. Not three days later. Yes, the very next day. In fact the very next morning. It rained.
It didn't rain light. It didn't drizzle. The skies became grey. Not a light grey, they became a dark grey. The kind of grey that lingers.
Now this would only go on for a day. Its late fall. I could live with that.
Four days later. Not one. Not two. Not three. Yes four days later. It was still grey. It was still rainy. And yes it was still that moody grey. The grey that lingers. The grey that sinks. The grey that says, "I'm the atmosphere. I am pissing on you."
So two days ago, in the afternoon, I went to the cheap umbrella store. I bought. Yes, I bought a cheap umbrella. It had that cheap fabric pouch. Its the virgin pouch. That sort of fabric pouch that once the umbrella is first deployed you can't get that sucker back covering the shrivelled umbrella matrix. Its the kind of umbrella that says. "I'm cheap. Lose me."
One day later. The very next morning in fact. I was chilly. But the weather was really nice. Its the kind of leaf kicking day. The sort of day when you amble through the city park and kick through the piles of leaves. That fall beaming day that says "I'm the atmosphere, I'm a sunny smiling little bitch."
Its the kind of fall day you think about pumpkins. One thinks of Halloween and plan expertly for that evening. The apartment darkens like an ancient tomb. Beware to all who intrude. Its the fall day when to one's self the wheels whirl, "Heh, heh, heh. Yes I will turn out the lights, close the curtains, and use earphones. I will not answer the door for those tackily disguised yuppy puppy snot monsters."
There sits my umbrella. Today all around the city rains fall. It says so on the radar. But as the water clouds reach the city the foul weather dissipates. I stare on at the closet hook. There it is. The cheap umbrella still protected by its hymen pouch.
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