Drying Slow

Outside the air is cool, the sky deep. Last night, Kelli and I drove through the city and saw the rivers grown fat and wide, erasing low-lying streets. The fountain at the Point was a black mirror. Streetlights still glowed above the submerged road we saw. I wonder if fish were passing along, beneath the surface, schooling past traffic signs and pot holes? Fairly surreal...

Things now, however, are rain-free and bright. Cool skies and quiet hours. Sunday, and my hair is drying slow.