Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

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           Something about rain


Deckard grips the girder

while irony rains down.

Death prises his slick fingers

slow inch by painful inch,

as Roy observes his face -

this human’s fear -

with forensic fascination.


I munch my popcorn.

In the moment I forget

that heroes never die.


Roy pulls him gasping back to life,

mumbled moments lost in time.

Something about teardrops. Something about rain.


We file past exit signs into the night

where raindrops coat our faces, soak our clothes.

We trickle down the street,

disappear into the crowds,

not sure we’ll make it home.