I used to love the rain.  It meant it was time to get my rubbers on.  Canary yellow ones.  Me and Bobby Cladstine would race up and down the dirt road on out bikes lookin for tadpoles to put in Grannies jar.

Bobby was always sweet on me.  He’s dead though.  The rain is just cold now.  Seems like it soaks right through everything I put on, even my boots.

I got a job today with the dock folk.  They seem like a good lot.  Once they all left, I stayed behind.  Took my boots off so my feet would finally dry out.  They were all pruned up and dead white.  Hurts to walk but I don’t let no one see.

The dock folk don’t like the way I smell.  Never really thought much about it until now.  Hope Burn is okay.  She has a habit of runnin hot.  Always too close to the fire.