It is spring time

(raining slightly)
i am twenty years old
and my parents have just separated.
I could tell lies,

(often i do)
but that urge has left me today
and so instead i will allow the truth
to say that

(in fact)
i do not feel so affected.
Standing outside
under a soaking sky

(this happens so much;)
i draw on a cigarette
to draw myself into question and exist

(i'm out of it so lately)
while i surrender my eyes
to the ripples formed by the rain
as they merge in puddles that populate
the plane of pavement.
I start to wonder

(often i do)
if each ripple is aware
of the others it affects,

(so much)
or if

(in fact)
the ripples are just ripples

(it is in debt of meaning itself)