Mud caked under my nails just long enough to house it. Rust streaks my shorts and powders my chest like a sort of foundation. My teammates and I are out slaving away as hammers and technicians ding in the distance like some remnant of a police captain. With each ding we heave, singing our own songs as we lug in the mast of broken down battleships (stadium seats) chained by two-sided obligation and the human spirit. Sweat mixes with the rain, settling on brows and falling into lips slightly agape. They form spots on the cement and sheet metal seats only seconds later being lost to the crowd of fallen rain. Inserting stadium seats is always like the opening scene of Les Miserables.
I waved all too excitedly in passing to the brothers in arms trudging in.
The rain picked up just as my spirits did and the clouds and I danced in my heart of hearts. Headphones became the needle and horn to a phonograph. Car lights lit the ballroom floor. Just as the first chorus sifted between my ears my clothes soaked all the way through, hair slick and jet black from all the wet. I felt so weightless, not stomping or swishing, but simply passing through the puddles while liquid crystal met my earthy skin sideways.
Once home I stripped on the porch, showered, dressed up for my upcoming classes and buzzed on to class. Today in Understanding dance I was volunteered to partner with a dancer and practice some lifts/partnering feats, in which I did pretty well. The professor was quite pleased with me and insisted I try various lifts that built upon each other. I had more fun than I realized at the time. My only regret is that my roommate skipped class and wasn't present to take pictures for my girlfriend. She would've gotten a kick out of it.
And now I'm sitting lackadaisically here in the library clad in business casual attire, drenched from head to toe and shivering the time away before I am to head off to class. Which as a matter of fact is right about...now. But I have no intention of showing up on time today. My happy, battered, sock-soaked soles will not traverse the threshold until 5:59 when I'll have had my fill of rejuvenating quiet.
If I had to choose between never feeling the rain again or never swimming in the ocean again,
I'd take my rain and swim down flooded city streets.
I waved all too excitedly in passing to the brothers in arms trudging in.
The rain picked up just as my spirits did and the clouds and I danced in my heart of hearts. Headphones became the needle and horn to a phonograph. Car lights lit the ballroom floor. Just as the first chorus sifted between my ears my clothes soaked all the way through, hair slick and jet black from all the wet. I felt so weightless, not stomping or swishing, but simply passing through the puddles while liquid crystal met my earthy skin sideways.
Once home I stripped on the porch, showered, dressed up for my upcoming classes and buzzed on to class. Today in Understanding dance I was volunteered to partner with a dancer and practice some lifts/partnering feats, in which I did pretty well. The professor was quite pleased with me and insisted I try various lifts that built upon each other. I had more fun than I realized at the time. My only regret is that my roommate skipped class and wasn't present to take pictures for my girlfriend. She would've gotten a kick out of it.
And now I'm sitting lackadaisically here in the library clad in business casual attire, drenched from head to toe and shivering the time away before I am to head off to class. Which as a matter of fact is right about...now. But I have no intention of showing up on time today. My happy, battered, sock-soaked soles will not traverse the threshold until 5:59 when I'll have had my fill of rejuvenating quiet.
If I had to choose between never feeling the rain again or never swimming in the ocean again,
I'd take my rain and swim down flooded city streets.
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