Thunder storms,
crazed lightening,
downpours,
nightmares,
intermittent sleep.

How different
the world appears
after such
a tortured night.

Grey, dripping,
bleak and dismal.

God must be
in Portugal
working
on his tan.

I feel like
a minor player
in some cheap
film noir movie
trying to remember
my lines.

Shooting starts
any minute now.

****,
who am I?
- mce