rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain
till the taste of rain is in your soul
like that grain of sand in your shoe
that you can never shake out
that forever grinds on your soulmeat

humid to breathing soup
and hot as a skillet full of thoughts you cant defend
watch em bounce round the walls of logic
seeking escape
seeking solace and finding none
incense ravished the room
with tropical far eastern scent
like a skillet full of poets lacking phrases

'center the thoughts
so much to do so little time'
utters the little man glancing at his wrist
where a watch is supposed to be
waiting for a train to a place
where he is supposed to be

'quick quick now
places to go
people to do'
but the hours seep by
and still he paces the rail side
waiting on a train who has already passed by

rain
hour after hour of hard driving rain
i sit in a doorway kindle shielded from the torrent
bickering within for each slow witted word
that stumbles out of my rain soaked mind
the damp has rotted my sense of direction
my sense of self
where do i go from here
this desolate beach in the rain
a mile or so up a lone figure moves slowly towards me
along the waters edge

i am alone
in the rain
rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain
rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain

the humana lady calls
and they say compassion has fallen the way
of chivalry