The skies outside are dark, too grey for you to walk home safely,
I think
The clouds rumble their agreement,
or indifference
It's hard to tell with clouds
My hands are at your waist and outside it starts to rain

Suddenly, I notice that things are heavier.
I blame it on the rain, wetting the trees, weighing them down
Blue cigarette smoke fills the room while I look through my window,
watching you leave
Weaving your way through century old trees

Long legs and a perfect ***, red and green and dark
I'm so hungry
And I really don't mind the rain