In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;

she's still coming-of-age,
like those bad films with those bad boys
trying to tell her secrets that aren't really secrets;
to lips that only turn out tricks.

they all don't dare forget her
because, when she leaves,
she's never gone too long.

she doesn't have time for quitting--
she's a dreamer with an "ever after" in sight.
she's a winner, she's a sinner.

get too close and, you won't regret her,
until she's left you for dead,
lying half-conscious;
gasping for more in the **a.m.

I have no love, I have no fear
I have my personal routine
You calmly sit somewhere near
Pretending you love hero in that scene

So don't keep your books unread
Better share your cigarette instead
Let me play that silly song for you
Maybe you will get some better

You see your tears in that rain outside
Don't black yourself, don't let it cover up
But you still sit in waiting for a ride
Hoping to get some better deep inside

But you don't love and you don't fear
Of life you shared with someone
You have your ship no more to steer
You life is to be crushing down apart