Momentum moves as rain commences like a flipped light switch

Oval drops
spider web splatter  tickles across my forehead

Each thousand thumps
Drum circles, not a rhythmic bone in these bodies
this course, wasn't foreseen

Taste buds are soiled, parole is in five to ten for them
And forget faramones
Lost to leisure

I wish I could keep you in my pocket
Not the front left pocket,
where the business cards and xanax reside or my pants,
Lent and loose change

The other one
Not the masquerade
The one that has forgiven me