or do i belong there?
it looks lovely over there, but it may storm tomorrow.
i'd like to travel just behind the rain as it moves.
watching it pour onto rooftops and out of gutters, just avoiding my windshield.
i'd rather read a secondhand book than own a new one.
i like envisioning someone else's hands where mine are now.
someone else's calloused fingers turning the pages,
at someone else's pace.
someone else's eyes,
maybe eyes painted the color of the ocean,
soaking up a meaning other than my own.