i'm slowly, slowly writing a new song. it started a week or so ago, walking through the garden, humming under my breath as rain fell in fat drops off the drooping trees. i pulled my guitar out from its nook between the too-small bookcase and the wall, and found that my meager vocabulary of chords fit both the nebulous melody of the chorus and my limited vocal range. yesterday i wrote the first verse, skewed rhyme scheme and even a high note.

so far, it's about an old ex-boyfriend. my stroll along the rainsoaked bit of earth brought to mind the long route of our division: a growing discomfort which ended with an impromptu hike in a sudden but steady downpour. i pulled him through the underbrush behind me as i slowly gathered the courage to tell him goodbye, leaving the trail and becoming lost with ruthless efficiency. we hardly said a word until i stumbled onto the dirt road, and when we could walk side by side i found i need to remove my hand from his. as i spoke, i watched thick rivers of clay slide through the hardpacked sand, rusted orange and veinblue, watched my feet sink into the earth with every step. i tried to make clich�s sound true, catching myself in the middle of the word "friend." i fiercely saw nothing but the rain on his cheeks.