After The Rain

We sit alone across the table
Unable to account for the storm
Driving through our lives like tourists
Slowing to point at the sight of us

by Jeffrey SpahrSummers

Comments (1)

JA-I've been there, in that moment-when a relationship becomes like a strange road movie, where we end up in existential diners, truckstops or theme parks. I can't like being in those storms-but I like your poem a lot. Phillip Michael Sawatzky