It is Saturday, a saturated palate. Any more that comes will just spill over.
Rest a bit. Rest and let what has been settle down towards the aquifers. The work of each breath. Saturn give me shelter in the belief that every surface is an interface and every interface a choice. Here now, I am choosing.
What is the way of interface when all that is porous is overflowing? How does the river greet each drop of rain?
We are rushing, you are welcome. We are flowing, you are welcome. We are spreading and rising and falling, you are welcome. We are chorus. This is us. You are welcome. You are welcome. You are welcome.
This flood, this kissing–the river bank and its grasses, the low places, drain grates and underpasses, basements and doorsills. Hello hello hello.