StrawberriesIt rained yesterday.It rained and it washed all the mud down our street.I went in the garden, my shoes got all wet.Darn summer showers that smell of soaked earth.I went in the garden, I set down my fruit basket,And started to dig.Until I found strawberries, crushed by the foul phlegm of sand grains andDead leaves.My hands still felt cold when I washed them with hot, steamy waterFrom under the tap. I closed it, and ranRan down the porous cement stairs that stung my bare feet,To the beat of a popular tune our neighbor Jerry played,To my friend's house.My friend used to stick strawberries to the tips of her fingers andEat them off, licking her lips with vigor.I knocked on the door twice and waited, strawberry basket in hand.My hand wouldn't reach the doorbell those years,Even standing on tiptoes.When minutes passed and I heard nothing but the roar of an airplane's rotor,I knew just where she would be.Pushing my head between iron bars