In A Day: One

Thick brownish liquid dumped carefully into a tall clear glass. 

I drank, trying to keep my eyes open. 

The shades were drawn but I could still feel the loom of the clouds out.

I silently hoped for rain. And lots of it. 

Rain is the perfect weather for poetry. 

...

My legs moved quickly covered by sheer blue fabric. 

My shoes too small struggling to stay on my feet. 

The clouds still showed no chance of rain but I still glanced up with hope.

Gradually growing more sleepy under the sky. 

My hair seemed to bother me as I raced to the library steps.

 I felt rushed but didn't mind. My thoughts pacing back to being a five year old in this building.

 I longed for children to take here, to fill bags of books to read on days like these. 

When the air was warm and wet.

 I resisted the temptation to push my scraggly blonde bangs to the side. 

...

Metal chairs caressed my backbone. Sugar coated my insides with blue food coloring. 

Lola tugging at her leash.

 My cheeks flush as she uses the bright flower bed as a restroom. 

...

"Do you ever think about them?" She asked. 

I nodded.

 We walked, and felt a few drops on our noses. 

Lola's claws digging into my arm. I shifted her, uneasily.  

"They haunt me. Like ghosts, they are always like ghosts."

"Who? Which ones?"

"All of them." I replied carelessly. 

...

We laughed as the blonde Russian waitress walked away.

 She had kind eyes and brought us purple drinks made from sweet corn. 

I heard my sisters voice carry Spanish words eloquently.

 My stomach aching, I shoveled food into my now silenced mouth that had earlier been chatting and laughing. 

I was in a Peruvian restaurant eating Chinese food with a Russian waitress and an American family. 

By now the clouds had let out all their emotions behind my back. 

...

I shuffled my sneakers across the cement, making sure to pay attention to the crosswalk signs.

 I had changed my shoes. Old Converse, with flames drawn on the toe.

 Being 15 caught up to me. I didn't care too much that it had. 

Worry kept creeping through me. It would start at the bottom of my stomach.

 My eyes panicked trying to keep up with Lola's quick legs.

 Her sound didn't exist against the walkway. Her body so small.

 I felt a turn inside me. Worried.

 Tomorrow she'd be in another persons care, sedated and sick. I couldn't help but think of the masked faces that would hang over her tiny animal body.

 I picked her up and kissed her soft smooth head. It haunted me, but the five of us kept walking. 

We walked back and forth. Block after block came passing abandoned businesses and brand new ones. My father, storytelling. His daughters, smiling with occasional tears in their eyes.

 The sweetness of them was too great to utter. 

...

Pulling into the driveway there was feeling of missing.

 Darkness fell around the house we grew up in, no music playing through the static stereo.

 I felt my spirit pushing with passion, confessing regrets and promising a new world with room for direct words and doing more. 

My sister sat, spoke strongly and we felt completed some how.

 We had both been feeling the same.

 My face felt dirty with the passing of the day

. I could only think of scrubbing my toes in warm water. 

The sprinklers exactly at ten hitting her tires, car now silent from running too and fro.

Everything was silent, except our slightly tired voices.

 Inspiration ignited. Half an hour past as our feet wandered inside.

 I felt wrapped in comfort and knew I was there for a purpose. 

Still here for something. 

MLC