He knows the smell of rain
He asks what color is the rain?
The wind blows
And he smiles
He knows the smell of spring
He asks what color is the spring?
A bird chirps
He smiles

He walks home
Wondering the color of the world
And he smiles

There is a love that rages here.
A kind that's incredible.
One that's illogical
and addled.

It sees through eyes though blind.
It thinks with mind though insane.
It feels with heart though unscrupulous.
It chooses with thought though reckless.

It is selfish and it wants what it wants.
It doesn't care because everything else
bears little weight.
Inconsequential.

There is a love that surges here.
And we are but...
collateral damage.

My head pounds with the
course of one night's gin
(and a thrown-in whiskey sour)
and I realize this town isn't for me
any longer.