rain

rain. again.
the young man is talking to his buddy
in a flooded hallway
too polite to sit on the white plastic chair
too pointless
the botanist and the weatherman
finger-counting what grows
and what collapses in the rain

here, where water comes from every direction,
the piece of ceiling that keeps you dry
is your darling friend. the cry over the phone
of your brokenhearted sister is a dream
you once dreamed.
the man to whom she's betrothed is
an unfounded myth - soon will be
washed away

fear is time-constrained
the water, the earth, the marriage
the demolition under the mud,
what's put to sleep - or who -
the history of love/life,
quietly decoded

worn

what in hell happens to the water running free?
this morning I lived up the unhappy session
laughing at the blocked flow
my canoe bumping around
"why those tears," one asked
oh, I've got million things to say
but it wouldn't be necessary
a redundancy, I should say
time is precious, is it not?
but who can predict
perhaps someday I really will stop
running away
or be stopped by a current