Dear You,

My unknown love,  
Did you see the rain gather in puddles?
Or were you too distracted by the city life?
Watch the headlights as you run across the street
Or focus on the light turning red,

Did you see me drink that glass?
Or hear me cough

Do you like the way it turned out?
All the pieces fit perfect

Or, are you like me,
Pretending
That this is what you want

I hear you
like the ringing in my ears
in the time
between consciousness
and dreams

fading scar tissue on my skin
feels so far from healing

aggressive breath
anxious sweat
pearls at the base of my neck

like puddles reflecting
that one lit up window
that spoke volumes
on the subject
of loneliness
and surrender

smog drifting higher
hugging the sun
in its suffocating embrace
so let the kids play
because tomorrow
the headlines could tell you
that it's finally time
to give up
give in
give away
anything
and everything you tried to save

cough like
your eroded throat
is the holy vessel
and your pain is scripture
pretend you didn't repeat
the things you pretended
to not have heard
so give me your last breath
and I give you my word
I'll never let your anguish
be remembered

so come on
and cough.

Oh look – look at that!
It’s cloudy and the skies are leaking!

Has it always been like this?

I’m trying to remember something beautiful…

But these memories
                             keep getting
                                                 washed            
  
                                                                   aw­ay


I don’t notice how drenched I am those times when I think about your eyes – I’m focusing – squinting to see something between the raindrops. I do that because I’m trying to remember why those eyes held my gaze in the first place.

Am I to always be a duck quacking for breadcrumbs?
Scarfing them down – quickly as if to free up space for the more to come.

I know there have to be more. Because I of all people deserve more. I do. I swear I do. I tell myself more is coming when I start choking on the wetness.

It's the only way to keep going - you have to trick yourself

It'll be better the next time even! Yea… yea it’ll be better –you know? ...the next time?

Because I can give it back even better... I want to give it too. I still give away the little dryness I have as soon as I get it… and I don’t expect anything back… but I do need more. As much as I try to hide it - as much as I look like I’m enjoying dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles- I'm not

I’m always wet and cold.
I hate it so much.
I cry too much and it won’t stop leaking just like the skies.

I feel it streaking down my cheeks like raindrops on windshields. I let it run down the length of body and get caught in a pool in my belly button.

And so I laugh because I hate being cold and wet and in the rain but I’m still standing here. And the puddle in my belly button slides out and joins my teardrops – which combined with the rain makes me look normal I guess…

But in reality I’m just nakedly standing there…and it's so lonely.
It’s my entire fault too – No, it is. I’m a sponge on the inside.
I soak up every bit of moisture and stay wet – while everyone else is dry.

I daydream about being dry. I look down at my reflection in the puddles at my feet and see what it would be like to be dry. Sometimes I squat down and look really closely. I’ve even gone so far as to stick my head in and open my eyes – and it feels normal.

My eyes are open and I see me … doing those special things with you – that special someone. The Nicholas Sparks’ kind of special someone. The special someone that I see myself looking back to when I’m old and wrinkly and saying, “when I was with him I didn’t even notice I was drenched...I believed I was dry”.

But then I start getting a tingling feeling in my nose when I realize “oh silly, dumb, stupid me – I know I can’t breathe underwater”. And it’s true. I can’t. But I’ll try again tomorrow. Just watch.

I could use a towel. I would love an umbrella. A hot cup of tea would soothe me nicely. But your hands… those special someone hands are who I need to receive them from. Because they are the nicest. And I deserve the nicest.

There's just one problem: I can’t reach them through the puddle…

October brings a flurry of trigger-happy handymen
to carpet over the potholes, puddles and last year’s cloth
with that emerald bract that’s rusted in seasons past and
now swarms in copper opulence.

I often wondered why sky’s most subtle inclinations
did not bleach the meadows into hues of tarnished brass
but will glaciate them rather than pull at the soil’s gums.

How I would thread a coat from those discarded teeth
and wear them out before they abandoned me.

Am I
Lost again?                        
                                                                uncertain
In my own world
    Splashing in puddles.                    
                                                  happily

While dancing in these tempestuous fields of my life I am now aware that
                                          I am not lost
                                                                I am found

Rain, rain, rain
My friend
Child of the heavens, that falls upon the earth and vast oceans
Rain
Rain upon the green leaves of trees and wet their trunks and barks.
Rain upon the flowers that have blossomed
from your mother’s bosom.
Instill life on lakes and river beds, their streams
that dry when you don’t come.

Catch a couple holding hands, and rain
Shower them
Closer they will come, under his umbrella they will hide
Where their hearts will touch.
Let him smell the aroma of her silky hair
That will drug him like cocaine
Full of love and passion he will stare
At the sparkle of her stare
Drag them closer even more,
Pour.
Sprinkle a droplet onto her nose,
And let him wipe it softly with his thumb
And kiss it gently with the lips of his mouth
For now, here your job is done.

Rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.

Rain enough to make a paradise,
But wait for the old man that plows his fields
Wait till he gets home
Then, rain at your will
But don’t bring ice, and much less snow,
For spring has been cold, and winter even more.
That, the man especially knows
Alone he’ll sit on his chair on his porch,
With a rubber ball that he used to throw.
In the summer and in fall his dog would chase it,
But that was long ago.
Do you remember?
You got both soaked last November,
before the man was left alone.

But do not weep, just rain
My friend,  Rain.


Rain in big and small droplets on the earth and floor
Wet my bare feet and jump in between my toes
I want to stamp on the puddle of water that you’ve formed
Soak me and join me
Rain and accompany me
Let us form a camaraderie
We can tell each other stories
You can tell me of your journey as you fall down from above
And I’ll tell you of the plants and flowers that in your absence will bud
Don’t be scared, for I’ll be your friend
When people go inside when you come,
I’ll come outside
You will make the puddles and I the mud
Even with my fading eyes I’ll look up
At the sky to welcome you as you rain.

When you leave don’t leave too fast,
Else the rainbow won’t show up
And please, don’t say goodbye
Farewells are too sad
Instead, say an “until next time.”

But for now rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.

Then I think when I was young, I didn't stop to ponder
only went to gather - days of sun and flowers
little feet to storm the street of puddles
splashing ever homeward, popsicles
my tiny toes, to warm again
my love like a fire

I am awoken by a child’s faint cry.
As I look around I see all these women; waiting oh so patiently.
Each waits for a nurse to call her name.
For a man to hold her hand.
For those obscure nights to dissipate into a dream.
For the bumps on their bellies
to be worth a soul, a sin, a miraculous thing.
No, no one has a ring..
There’s an awkward silence.
The siblings of the unborn interrupt.
Some fragile women secretly thankful to be distracted away from their ambivalent thoughts and trepidation seek refuge in reprimanding the unruly children.

A tumult of questions inundate my mind.
Incessant raindrops leaving puddles of muddy thoughts.

There is a girl across the room she had shared with the group that her husband had gone to the restroom the day before and would soon join her. I fake a pitiful smile and yet hope that he does.  

Until a woman dressed in white yells my name and I clutch my empty hand.