La Floride

June 3, 2005

When it rains it Florida, it is a torrential downpour of sorts and rumors of flooding are shifted from person to person and house to house like it might be the end of the world. The water in the streets of this little town builds up so quickly that it’s even hard to drive. And then later in the day, the sun emerges, an unhealthy heat rises and all traces of water will disappear. The only hint that it has rained is the smell in the air and the ever-so-slight dampness of the concrete or grass beneath your feet. And while you can’t ever rely on your feet or your skin, you can always rely on your nose…rain takes everything in the dirt and casts it into the air in an ugly, earthy scent. The worms, the shit, the dead and the beautiful; the roots of the flowers blooming, the biggest trees who have dominated over humans for hundreds of years. That smell murmurs something in your ear that you can’t quite make out, and it sounds good. Whatever it is, it feels great. That’s what Florida is good for. Rain.

That’s about it. Don’t even think about coming here, you tourist bastards.

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One Response to “La Floride”

  1. Michael Says:

    Not a bad piece of imagery, Drew. I like it.


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