Is loving the rain
a modern thing?
An unexpected side effect of
walls and roofs and heated rooms?
Or are these mere trivialities
and water
falling from the sky
has always made the human heart
sing in deeper tones
from the gut, further down
in the dirt where the roots
drink it in, every
drop, every
note.

I used to have these
terrible fits
(worse, I think, than anything)
like a little fish
violently flopping to death
in a cracked and dried up
rough riverbed
gasping in vain for one last breath.

(I was gasping, in vain, for you)

It's hard to explain.
The patterns in my brain
are like scratches on a CD
when all you want
is to listen to the music
but the **** thing
keeps on skipping
and repeating
certain parts
while everyone else
is dancing in their cars
and you're just trying
to drive and
breathe.