GUTTERBALL
just dribbling, that’s all the rain there is. none left to sputter past the lip of it and simper down the street. no myriads, y’know? no branching straits in parallels braiding slicks across asphalt. just dribbling, just the pittance the gray coughed up, spats of gloss strewn here and there. just joyless puddles the city will take weeks to shed
ANJA CHIVUKULA
37
