On the Way to the Well

I live in a place where the water’s unclean
And rather than choosing to drink the unseen
I go to the store for a vending machine
Dispensing five gallons of water that’s clean.

All my containers experienced drought
So last night I gathered them up for my route
To a filtration spot that’s completely about
The reverse osmosis to get garbage out.

Only it starts to pour as I pull in the lot.
I luckily manage to get the first spot,
But I sit in my car because I’d rather not
Get soaked to the bone like someone who’s caught

On a walk unsuspecting the water to come.
I see it, I came to get gallons of some
Cleaner water that’s filtered and not falling from
The sky I fault for this unfortunate sum

Of water that falls down with irony’s pain.
As me and my empty containers complain.
I step out in puddles that think I’m insane
To go out for some water in this kind of rain.


2 thoughts on “On the Way to the Well

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