Wet Dust and Hot Dogs

By: JoJo Ball

I used to hate it when it rained,

that strong scent of wet dust,

wafting in the air after the first rain of the fall.

It made me think of summer church barbeques,

dragging me through the masses to keep up appearances.

I would always stare at the black wrinkles in the hot dogs,

filling the perfect food with its bitter charcoal taste.

Tarnishing the hot dogs good reputation

just like they told me sins would tarnish mine.

I would sit silently through the prayers

slowly, patiently waiting to eat my less than perfect food.

Fearing that if I didn’t god would fall from the sky

to smite me for my insubordination.

These days I wake up in the mornings

and I’m thankful no such smiting has taken place

And it makes every day worthwhile,

even when it rains.