The D Spot

Walking to my car in the dark last night
air like wet wool, pressing against my skin
A slow drip of moisture down my throat, between my breasts.
Lighting flashes, strobe-like around and above me.
In the distance, a far off rumble of thunder, a warning
of things to come.
I walk faster.
Shapes near me, hovering at the edges of my vision yet I
dare not turn my head or give them reason to notice me.
Cigarette smoke wafts past me,
the acrid scent sticking to me in the damp heat.
I make it to my car at last,
surviving yet another long dark walk.
The rain starts as I turn my key.