Spring Time Bus Stop BenchKelly Mahoney is a student in Riverside. Read her blog, I Am Watching Naomi, Full Bloom.
by Kelly Mahoney
Liquid grey and let it pour. Clouds appear around noon and soon rain floods the streets of my city. Each drop mumbles a secret to me as one by one they crash down onto my bare, pale skin, giving my freckled shoulders goosebumps. "Calm down, love," says one. I do what I'm told. I twist my neck and face my left, touching my chin to my shoulder. Young, ill-prepared businessmen sprint down sidewalks to parking garages and I close my eyes. The air is warm and wet and sweet. "You don't always have to accept the things you're faced with," it drips down my eyelid to my lashes, "Sometimes things are unacceptable." My damp cotton shirt sticks to the front of me. Leaning forward from painted wood, I let them tickle my back. "You know the colors you see when you close your eyes? That is what's real. Nothing else." I smile. "The words you hear are just tiny hairs picking up vibrations." Bite my lip. "You're here. Don't get gone yet." I laugh and look up at that bright, cinder block grey. The grey that I crave when my blue fades away. All I can ever see are those Prunus dulcis eyes. My lids close as I tilt my head back and let their words wash over me.