the rain, it tumbled down through the cracks in the sky
it made my hands grow. watch my hands grow
it was raining. you were wearing a soggy sweater and too-large jeans, and the biggest smile on your face. we stomped through rain puddles with our tennis shoes and laughed hysterically, our heads thrown back, howling at the gray sky. our hair hung like dripping curtains in front of our faces and we raced through the wet school, flying faster, while everyone around us pretended to be too-cool and gave us eyebrow-risen glances. we didn’t care. we had wings.
we climbed the wet branches of our tree and gave thanks for the shelter it gave us, curling up on the bark and shivering slightly. your house was too small, too small for us when it rained. we had to escape. we had to wade through the black rivers that were your neighborhood streets. we had to find something else to do. when it rained, it felt like real magic, and we could do anythin, and we could be anyone, and we could scream at the top of our lungs and shriek with laughter and howl like ghouls and no one would ever hear us. all they would hear is the pitterpatter and booming of a summer thunderstorm. we were wild burning spirits with rage, and on those dizzying nights we’d release all anger into the winds because nothing else could possibly handle our pain.
it started raining one day. I could hear the rain beating against the window of your living room and I glanced around at your apartment. we were sitting in a circle around your television on those worn, beaten down couches. your Mother was home. she looked tired and agitated, with lines creasing her young face. I was angry. I’d been angry and I felt wild and tangled and I wanted to be released. I felt tied up, restrained, caged, trapped, cornered, I was an animal. I could feel a snarl in the back of my throat, I could feel it. I was tapping my fingers impatiently on your table and shaking my legs on the couch. no one seemed to notice. you didn’t even notice. you, of all people, couldn’t tell that I was about to explode. my nails were bitten down, a clear sign, and my hair was twirled into a matted mess. but you? you were just watching a movie and eating pizza, content. there was no usual fidget or twitch with the sound of rain. I realized suddenly that I was alone.
I was alone.
and then, without anyone knowing, I escaped through your front door, silent and swift. I just got up and left. I broke free into the thunder and the lighting and the rain and I ran. I ran with bare feet as hard as I could and I cried as hard as I could and I climbed a chain-link fence, into the haunting emptiness of an elementary school. I crossed the wet asphalt and stared at the angry sky. I guess I was sick of being in your rundown apartment with your tired, worn couches and shitstained carpets with your sad, tweaker mother staring blankly at the television screen. I was disgusted with the life we knew, I felt dirty and grungy and tainted. I crossed the wet grass and felt my head throb lightly, my nose was running and I wiped it on a soaking sleeve. I climbed into the seat of a swing and put my head back as far as it would go and I let the rain wash away everything while thunder boomed in the distance. I was happy here. as lightning lit up the trees I used my feet to climb the sky on the swing, feeling better because I was completely numb and my mind was blank and I was just soaring through the bitter rain.
you found me an hour later, with your Mother close behind, and you cried and so did she and you said don’t you ever fucking do that again, Sarah! don’t you ever fucking do that again, we didn’t know where you went! but I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t even say that I was sorry. we walked back to your mother’s car and I never told you but I always wished that you could've been there with me to scream and cry and be angry at the world, just for a few hours.
I never knew why you didn’t come with me that day.
we climbed the wet branches of our tree and gave thanks for the shelter it gave us, curling up on the bark and shivering slightly. your house was too small, too small for us when it rained. we had to escape. we had to wade through the black rivers that were your neighborhood streets. we had to find something else to do. when it rained, it felt like real magic, and we could do anythin, and we could be anyone, and we could scream at the top of our lungs and shriek with laughter and howl like ghouls and no one would ever hear us. all they would hear is the pitterpatter and booming of a summer thunderstorm. we were wild burning spirits with rage, and on those dizzying nights we’d release all anger into the winds because nothing else could possibly handle our pain.
it started raining one day. I could hear the rain beating against the window of your living room and I glanced around at your apartment. we were sitting in a circle around your television on those worn, beaten down couches. your Mother was home. she looked tired and agitated, with lines creasing her young face. I was angry. I’d been angry and I felt wild and tangled and I wanted to be released. I felt tied up, restrained, caged, trapped, cornered, I was an animal. I could feel a snarl in the back of my throat, I could feel it. I was tapping my fingers impatiently on your table and shaking my legs on the couch. no one seemed to notice. you didn’t even notice. you, of all people, couldn’t tell that I was about to explode. my nails were bitten down, a clear sign, and my hair was twirled into a matted mess. but you? you were just watching a movie and eating pizza, content. there was no usual fidget or twitch with the sound of rain. I realized suddenly that I was alone.
I was alone.
and then, without anyone knowing, I escaped through your front door, silent and swift. I just got up and left. I broke free into the thunder and the lighting and the rain and I ran. I ran with bare feet as hard as I could and I cried as hard as I could and I climbed a chain-link fence, into the haunting emptiness of an elementary school. I crossed the wet asphalt and stared at the angry sky. I guess I was sick of being in your rundown apartment with your tired, worn couches and shitstained carpets with your sad, tweaker mother staring blankly at the television screen. I was disgusted with the life we knew, I felt dirty and grungy and tainted. I crossed the wet grass and felt my head throb lightly, my nose was running and I wiped it on a soaking sleeve. I climbed into the seat of a swing and put my head back as far as it would go and I let the rain wash away everything while thunder boomed in the distance. I was happy here. as lightning lit up the trees I used my feet to climb the sky on the swing, feeling better because I was completely numb and my mind was blank and I was just soaring through the bitter rain.
you found me an hour later, with your Mother close behind, and you cried and so did she and you said don’t you ever fucking do that again, Sarah! don’t you ever fucking do that again, we didn’t know where you went! but I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t even say that I was sorry. we walked back to your mother’s car and I never told you but I always wished that you could've been there with me to scream and cry and be angry at the world, just for a few hours.
I never knew why you didn’t come with me that day.