you woke me up in
april storms and may flowers.
i can't recall the place or
the time or or even
what you wore, but i remember you.

i prayed for rain that
dry, unwelcome summer.
god never liked unwelcome
requests and rain dances and
unwavering smiles.
god laughed at me that summer.

autumn approached and
i fell hard into your
warm millpond, and i felt
your love. but god did not
grant me the serenity i felt
i deserved. and so i'd
wade around, waiting.

the day you held my frigid
fingertips, you plucked my heartstrings.
my mind, soaked in thought and
misery, could not keep up
with the way you made my heart
beat.

we didn't believe in the
superstition of umbrellas or the
well-understood chance of rain.
perhaps it was by happenstance that i
drowned under the taste of your lips
that cold july day.

and now i stand at
this taciturn train station with
my eyes to the sky, waiting for it
to pour, to pour. i never believed
in the forecast until it told me
there was a 60% chance of seeing you.