It's raining outside
you mosey on over to my area
on the porch
where the rain beads
up on a rhododendron bush.
Our blue tick hound –
he sniffs the dewy breeze
as he always does when it rains.
As patting his head,
you look at me and say,
"All my clothes need washing,
so I borrowed some off your cousin."
I notice my cousin must wear
a few sizes too big for you,
seeing as how
the bra strap
keeps slipping off your shoulder.
While I move the strap
back among your shoulder,
your eyes are fixed
upon our hound's twitching
nostrils, rustling.
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