Manna

Today it rained on one side of the train platform

But not at all on the side where the whole rainbow grew, his back a double-sided athletic arch across the cotton-kind-of-clouds.

On one side of the train platform it smelled like rain

And on the other it smelled like sunshine.

And in the middle of the platform it smelled like magic

Smelled like the same substance that guides me directly and unexpectedly into someone I like very much whenever I let my feet walk without my brain

Or the insta-pleasure of biting instead of waiting

Or the sheepishness a young person allows themselves when they forget to give their seats away on buses.

And I know as long as my heart can eat the wonder of such small moments, it cannot completely starve.

But I feel distracted.

There are lethargic, bored eyes

Tired slanting stares which belong to all the everyones who do not, will not, cannot dash from one side of the platform to another with me

To hold rain then hold air

And hold the rain and hold the air and hold the rain and hold the air.

It isn’t all the time!

These mingle-mangle stardust moments that paint the world with yellow optimism.

In fact, almost all the days don’t vibrate with this color. Almost all the days it rains on every side

Or not at all.

Which is precisely why this moment matters urgently

In my calves and that familiar space between arms and ribcage which I can only find when I’m excited truly.

Just now, just here, right now, in this moment

It is raining on one side of the track and sun reigns on the other.

The sun breaks through a cloud mountain and the part of me that learned so well the joy of sharing

Is sad

To be the one percent holding all the rain and air.

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