I took a rain pill today
and drifted into dreams
in which I came to know
the inside of a lotus flower
that taught me how to be
grateful to the mud.

I wore rain glasses today,
their blurred glasses veiled
the long lines of lovers,
like you, marching towards me
with a practiced silence.

I cashed a rain cheque today
and got a lifeless wet kiss
in a way you slip yourself
an extra fifty dollars
of Monopoly money.

I took off the rain ring today
and put it into my pocket,
trying to remember the girl
with the arrogant smile,
chestnut eyes that warded off
nightmares on air flights,
kisses in playgrounds at night.

I put on a rain dress today,
shapeshifting to a fluid bond
between the frailties
of my soul and my mind,
concealing the warping
of my shadow.

This is where it starts.
This is where it ends.
October rain does not last forever.
At some point it becomes
November rain.