Rubbing emollient molecules on his face
    to absorb the sun's rays would protect him
    from doom and her, he concluded,
    so every morning the slather
    but each night brought the downpour -
    surviving by these protective, intangible rituals
    while the four resident stray canines
    were crazy driven
    by the stench of the neighbor's
    barbequing meat, each sizzle a torment.
    He tried to explain to them about the
    light-absorbing molecules,
    but they refused to listen to his advice -
    just walked in the sun all day
    like a roaming pack of amnesiacs.
    And so unheard, and in observance of custom,
    he abdicated, going to her -
    the citizen of the secret storm.

Copyright © Dianna L. Zimmerman, 2001.  All Rights Reserved.