He reminds me
of warm
summer rain
that beats down
on rusted
paint can
lids
That endless
drumming that
swells my lungs
with honey melon
sweet nectar
He reminds me
of warm
clay
that melts
like butter
in saccharine
batches
of short lived
molded memories
now blossoming
like fresh tulips
in dark
earthy mounds
He is my
rain man
Like a strong storm
that dies down
just to kiss
the lakes that
bleed into
minty puddles
Fierce
and undying
he survived
all the
ash filled
chocolate boxes
and
empty
phone calls
from home
He is the
rain man