After Mary Ruefle
Every time it starts to rain, I would like to have
a smoke. The clouds settling in over the bronchia
of the trees, over the branches of my lungs. Quick,
pull up the blinds, let the grey shimmer in. Reach
for the pipe and pack in the crumbled flower.
Mother Nature drumming upon the childhood
corridors of my mind. I sit swathed, pretending
my comforter is a cloak, in an attempt to set
the aesthetic while in pursuit of those soggy
summer days where the Goonies would always
triumphantly turn up the treasure of One-Eyed Willy.
The days when the world would pause: no balls
were thrown, no knees were skinned, no need
to take a moment to catch my breath. Now
when it rains, and especially when it thunders,
I strive to reach that near-reckless level of naiveté.
Jonathon Bridge is currently finishing up his degree in English Literature with a minor in Creative Writing. After graduation he plans to continue his writing and making his grandma proud.