precipitation
by Gale Acuff
Miss Hooker drove me home from Sunday School
today because of all the rain and mud I'd have
to slosh through walking there, which is what I
do, it's only a mile, a mile both ways,
and I didn't bring an umbrella since
it wasn't raining when I set out
for church this morning and I don't have one
anyway but my folks do, they keep it
in their bedroom closet but they sleep late
and don't come to church and I don't want to
disturb them, that's God's job, I think, they're old
enough not to be punished save by Him
and I guess they'll work it out before they
die. I don't want to, ever--die I mean
even though Miss Hooker says I might go
to Heaven if I'm good, which is better
than going to the other other place, which is
Hell. But at least I think it never rains
there and if I go I'd wish it would,
that's what Miss Hooker told me on the way
home. I would've invited her in but
she would've seen my folks in their old robes
at the kitchen table and then suffer
the stink of Sanka and Lucky Strikes and
that's no way to treat a lady, I mean
Miss Hooker. She wanted to walk me up
to the door with her umbrella but I
said, No ma'am, I'd make a dash for it, which
I did and our front yard's Zoysia so I
didn't get any mud on my Sunday
clothes and only a few raindrops, which will
evaporate, that's when water turns to
air and goes back to the clouds and one day
so will I, except my body will go
back to the earth, I guess, when they bury
me but my soul will turn to vapor and
rise through the clouds and I guess into space
and into Heaven where, Miss Hooker says,
I'll get a new body. Before I went inside
I watched Miss Hooker drive away.
Somehow part of me went with her, I guess
a little of my soul. I'll get it back
next Sunday, maybe, or it will return
like my dog does. I'll want to punish it
but I won't, I'll be so happy to see it
and forgive that it left without warning.
This could be love. I'm not sure I like it.
today because of all the rain and mud I'd have
to slosh through walking there, which is what I
do, it's only a mile, a mile both ways,
and I didn't bring an umbrella since
it wasn't raining when I set out
for church this morning and I don't have one
anyway but my folks do, they keep it
in their bedroom closet but they sleep late
and don't come to church and I don't want to
disturb them, that's God's job, I think, they're old
enough not to be punished save by Him
and I guess they'll work it out before they
die. I don't want to, ever--die I mean
even though Miss Hooker says I might go
to Heaven if I'm good, which is better
than going to the other other place, which is
Hell. But at least I think it never rains
there and if I go I'd wish it would,
that's what Miss Hooker told me on the way
home. I would've invited her in but
she would've seen my folks in their old robes
at the kitchen table and then suffer
the stink of Sanka and Lucky Strikes and
that's no way to treat a lady, I mean
Miss Hooker. She wanted to walk me up
to the door with her umbrella but I
said, No ma'am, I'd make a dash for it, which
I did and our front yard's Zoysia so I
didn't get any mud on my Sunday
clothes and only a few raindrops, which will
evaporate, that's when water turns to
air and goes back to the clouds and one day
so will I, except my body will go
back to the earth, I guess, when they bury
me but my soul will turn to vapor and
rise through the clouds and I guess into space
and into Heaven where, Miss Hooker says,
I'll get a new body. Before I went inside
I watched Miss Hooker drive away.
Somehow part of me went with her, I guess
a little of my soul. I'll get it back
next Sunday, maybe, or it will return
like my dog does. I'll want to punish it
but I won't, I'll be so happy to see it
and forgive that it left without warning.
This could be love. I'm not sure I like it.
Gale Acuff has had poetry published in Ascent, Chiron Review, McNeese Review, Adirondack Review, Weber, Florida Review, South Carolina Review, Carolina Quarterly, Arkansas Review, Poem, South Dakota Review, and other journals. He has authored three books of poetry published by BrickHouse Press: Buffalo Nickel, The Weight of the World, and The Story of My Lives . He has taught university English classes in the US, China, and the Palestinian West Bank.