he said
"that's what i want...a good hard rain"
and the next day it rained.

watching the heavy drops bombard
the small broken house i hide in. i wait
waiting for a leak to spring.
waiting for buckets filling up with rain water
making that uneven
plinking,
                                         plopping,
                plonking,
dripping,
                            dropping,
music that drives me mad and puts the dogs to sleep.
waiting for the rivers to creep in under the doors
and dampen furniture so it wont dry till june.
waiting for the cold wind that blows right through the windows
and the power to fail
like it does,
every time it rains.

he wanted a good hard rain
and it's here.

he will walk in,
all smiles and dripping drops and muddy foot prints
"isn't it wonderful? isn't it perfect?!"
and i
wrapped in yards of blankets and layers of ripped clothing
will agree and try to ignore his laughter
at my misery.