A trip to the bookstore in the rain

Humidity covered my body

As I stop to admire

Mini skeletons riding flamingos

In front of a road lined with mossy trees

I let the quiet road speak

As droplets of rain

Put on their own performance

From the rooftop

Of a small yellow bookstore

The brown paper bag crackels under my hold

Containing books

That make me dream of faraway places

And steamy love