The rain called
them out to it.
Freckled the sandy earth.
Made
a blanket for their sex.
Watered their flowering
bodies.
The rain slipped over them, silky fluid seeping from the openings
of the clouds shifting above them. Wet
their wet lips.
Beaded in their tangled
curls. Rode down
the slopes of their skin, slowly—like
fingertips.
The rain moaned
outside
their dim windows that watched it spill
into puddles. Drops disappeared
into the sodden
mire
as the lovers soaked into each other on the humid bed
inside.
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