Cloudy today
The weatherman would say
Of me
Of my mind
Clouded haze
Foggy thoughts
Like wading through the humid day
When
It’s supposed to rain
From all accounts
But the clouds
Are huffy
And say
They’ll take the 12%
Chance of a light breeze from the nothwest
Chance of seeing someone you like
Chance of meatballs
For dinner
(for eight hundred, Alex)

It might clear up tomorrow
He’d continue,
Scratching an itch on his neck
Smiling for the cameras
Because there are people watching
Always watching
And they rely
On the weatherman
To predict
To announce
To call

With accuracy

It might
He says again, looking less certain
With every word
It might

It might be sunny, with bright
Wisps of white
Glossing across the cerulean sky
Wouldn’t that be nice?
And a warm
Breeze
And
Who knows?
Really
After all
There must be showers
Before the roses bloom
After all
He repeats
Looking to the left
Stage right
Where the rain
Is not planning to fall
Not yet
Not today
Not yet

And the whole
The whole of it
Whole comedic
Scene is trapped
In limbo
(like the space
Before a bathroom
Where there is no bathroom
Sink
Mirror
Too sheltered to loiter
Too exposed to cry
Which serves no purpose
In the grand scheme)
In my mind

But that’s all there is sometimes
Cloud
Haze
Fog
With the promise
Of sunshine
Tomorrow

(Or just
tomorrow)