Issue 15
Rain
David Jordan
Home
Welcome
Contents
Contact Us
Join Our Mailing List
What's New
Site Map
Site Search
Guttersnipe
After thunder died,
as gray blew away
and blue broke through,
I donned my swimsuit
and ran to sit in the gutter
outside my grandmother's
house. The Harlan Street hill
dove past her yard,
so rainwater gushed down
the concrete gutter from brick
streets uptown to The Bottoms below.
Five years old, I parked
my scrawny behind in brown
water and let it wash over bare
legs, belly, braced hands. Leaves
and sticks stuck to me. I plucked
them off, sent them racing away,
tiny boats on a furious current.
Today I would no sooner
sprawl in a Nebraska gutter
to let rain drain from city
streets over my body
than I would chew tar bubbles
plucked from the sun-struck
pavement of East LA (which I did
when I was six). I'm not certain
if this is testimony to age
or to changing times,
changing streets.
~David Jordan
David Jordan is a former newspaperman and teacher turned poet/fiction
writer. He lives in Portland Oregon. More of his work can be seen at his website. Email.
© 2004 by David Jordan. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2004 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.