The Arid Deluge Comes Down

• Summertime in Vilas Park
  She loves picnics, he does not
  Her idea of a picnic lunch is cheese
  French bread, wine, and fruit

It feels like dry rain coming

He’s lactose intolerant
Dislikes crusty bread because
It cuts up the roof of his mouth
Wine makes it hard
For him to breathe
While fruit
Gives him the runs

The large dry drops begin to plop

He says nothing against the fare
Fears she’ll take her love away
Pack it all up and pull the blanket out
From under him and set him tumbling

He’s beginning to shrink in the dry

She’s a woman he could marry
Despite her picnic penchant
And the dietary restrictions

“If only I had an umbrella,” he says

She stops slicing the bread
That will draw blood

Her steel gray eyes flashing
Asks, “Why would you need
An umbrella on a perfect day like this?”

The dry’s coming down terrifically now

“You’re weird,” she says, “eat some apple”
Handing him a dooming slice

He’s soaked now to the bone
But takes a tiny bite
Knowing how this
Will all end