Rainbeats

There was jazz. And vodka. And the beginnings of a short story. Then this happened.

Rainbeats
JCD Kerwin

Take my heartbeats.
Take them with the raindrops
when they fall.

Keep them as they roll
off your black umbrella;
catch them in your palm,
and lay them on your lips
so that my soul may kiss
you once more.

Listen to the thunder;
imagine it’s my heart
exploding as it says,
“I love you,”
in ways words never can.

Imagine it is me
in the rain,
when you toss all night
in summer.
I will cool you with mist,
like it’s my fingertips,
and we are beneath the stars
again.

Take my heartbeats.
Take them with the raindrops
and forget about the sun.

June 2015

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Tumble Dry

Sometimes I randomly think of things or moments from the past. Sometimes they’re too vivid.

The City: Laundromat by Lori Nix

The City: Laundromat by Lori Nix

Tumble Dry
JCD Kerwin

We met
in the back of a laundromat,
in plastic chairs
much too big for us.
You told me where your life was at,
and he was the one, in fact,
you gave it all away to.
I wasn’t mad,
and I wasn’t sad
(you thought I’d never
speak to you again),
but I will admit it hit
and made my heart
fall and clank
like quarters on the floor.
No more talks,
rainy walks,
or dreaming of
Neverland.
It’s okay; I’m glad
you fell in love and
went your own way.
I just wish we hadn’t left
all we had
in the back of a laundromat.
(Dec 2014)

PONGO

image

coffee and rain by ozlm on Flickr

PONGO
JCD Kerwin

the image
of a cup of java
(black-brown,
a hint of vanilla,
and steaming in just
the right
kind of swirls)
might seem
rather cliché,
but it’s the best way
i spend an afternoon,
hidden deep
in couch cushions,
and tapping my foot
to Frank Wes
and Miles Davis.

the water droplets
on my windowpanes
agree:
nothing cliché
about jazz rain.

(April, 2014)