Monday, May 19, 2008

It Rains



It rains.

It's late, you feel like you've forgotten something,

The streets are strange

You don't speak the language...

It rains.


Did you think she was a statue, a painting

That you might catalog and store, musty and faithful?

One look, one touch at the base of her throat

Would have told you

Would have warned you

It rains.


Take a taxi,

Watch the liquid constellations come and go on the window glass

It's late, you're lost, you feel like you'd like to forget something...

See her eyes in the street lamps,

The meter clicks, you feel sick

And goodbye plays in your head like a song from an alleyway;

The words are nonsense

But the music is familiar as your heartbeat.

It plays on,

You dance this foreign night to its end and

It rains.

______________________________________

6 comments:

Cynthia said...

I love this haunting poem, the
repetition is done expertly and
lends that touch of subtle drama.

Fireblossom said...

Merci, Madame!

Kunjubi said...

The words are nonsense
But the music is familiar as your heartbeat.
It plays on,
Beautiful lines...Splendid! kunjubi

GEA said...

Adorable recurrent lines. Sooo touching!

Fireblossom said...

Thank you, GEA, and please come back to Word Garden any time!

flipside records said...

These are my favorites:

"you feel like you've forgotten something"

"The streets are strange"

"you feel like you'd like to forget something"