Naked to the waist, I’m out in the back yard, performing my reverse rain dance. The kids say it’s no use. The wife says it won’t do any good. I’m out here gyrating and jiggling like a19thcentury Shaker. Like I believe Moses sweated bullets in the Sinai. Rain falling up, for 40 years, like a six-gun-shooting its weary wet way back to heaven.
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