I searched several weeks for the fountain,
The one "not made by the hands of man."
Alas, I was unable to discover
The secret location.
Maybe it was just a pipe dream?
I woke up to the pitter patter of a
Sober rain last Thursday
Before I wandered into the House of God.
I slumped in the last row and wept,
Where I shed dry tears because I
Could no longer hide the immense
I cried and pulled my hair.
My eyes swelled,
When a gaggle of transparent thoughts
About the tall girl with the sunflowers sideswiped me,
Like a NYC cab out of control.
I felt the fear throbbing in my hands
Knowing that I will never whisper her name again.
Sometimes rocks do float when you
Throw them into a pond.
Ask me later, after I dry myself off.