A minor sequence of maybes.

Weather has come to our city again.

Out of our bleary smoke-choked California sky, droplets are forming, water is falling, landing, splashing on the ground. The earth underfoot is turning dark and thick, as earthworms writhe outward in an attempt to breathe. They’re drowning, they are.
They need the air to keep them going.

Part of me wonders if that means something, even if I know that it really doesn’t. Simulacra and Simulation; “Unless you want it to.”
Maybe it’s a want, more than a wonder.

Maybe I don’t care, and I just want my fingers to be moving.

Maybe I should shut up, and listen to the way the rain falls.

Maybe I should do more than listen.

Maybe I should try something, something more.

Maybe I should try to know it.

Maybe I should slip on my jeans, tug on my socks, jam on my shoes, and walk outward, out into that. Bare-backed and Rain-slicked, all in some attempt to breathe.

Maybe I should get wet.

Maybe I should close my eyes, and get to sleep.

Maybe I should take that time to stop worrying about what is going to happen on the day after the day that is now today.

Maybe I should worry more, instead.

Maybe I should spend tomorrow (which is today) thinking of an explanation. Something solid, something fierce. Something quiet, but not, not, not something cold.

Maybe I should pretend that it won’t come up.

Maybe I should get away from the unpleasant moments of the future, and focus on the sounds of this place, right now.

Maybe I should close my eyes.

Maybe I should listen harder, letting the sound of the traffic bleed through. Let it mingle, maybe.

Maybe I should sing to myself, just a little.

Maybe I should stop singing so much.

Maybe I should be worried about the eyes that look.

Maybe I should sit here.

Maybe I should rest here.

Maybe I should figure something out.

Maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe…yeah.
I mean…yeah.

It’s like that, out there. The clouds are rolling, making no noise that I can hear; yet I can hear them nonetheless. This is good, I say. The rain has come out of dirty skies. The fires are in the ground, in our hearts, not in our air. It’s a moment to listen, not to speak.

So -- for now -- that’s what I shall do.