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We Danced Almost Naked in the Rain By Bonnie Enes A summer day we baked in the sun leisurely swam the lake a storm broke covered with pine needles we laughed and danced in the downpour till washed clean then on to the restaurant hurried in wearing bathing suits changed in the bathroom I almost bought your joyfulness. Almost bought your passion those steaming nights at my place on the river humidity like a rain forest we slid off each other through August summer nights. Almost bought your patience when camping with Fred Cat we sat up late by the campfire till he returned from a day of hunting laid his present at our bare feet. Almost bought your humor after Fred Cat left dusty paw prints on all the cars we went to town bought Grocho Marx plastic glasses wore them back to the campground so no one would recognize us. Storm clouds brewed on our horizon your mother upstairs keeping company with her pastel walls your father in the cellar humming things out of wood vile complaints spat against each other treaded up and down the cellar stairs. While camping, you tried to give up smoking one morning you forgot to wear the patch danced around the car violently demolished the bee who frantically scrambled up the windshield while I frantically tried to save him before I was almost sold. |
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Document last modified on: 09/25/2005