to feel a part of this world, to feel the air that is being cleansed
of the filth and rot of civilization and to see the dry creek out
back that kids built a fort around last summer, with a filthy mattress as a bridge
fill to the brim with cold muddy water that will run through the artificial pipes and what little is
left of what was once a beautiful and natural valley, now paved over and trod upon and
suffocated by humans and the cold rain touches my bare arm and reminds me that I am
a part of this world, even as I struggle against it as we humans do.  And I wish I was far
away from this place, far away from all this crowding and muck and ceaseless competition
and wrong moves and attacks and I wish I could have only the silence of a loud storm
cleanse my consciousness and make me believe again that there is hope in this world and the
rain hits my watering can with a ping, ping sound and wind roars into my third floor apartment
and I feel alive.