What a relief, the rain.
Shades I haven’t seen since childhood
Had been loitering in the alleys.
You can’t see them as well
When the water’s coming down.
I pretend we’re ok,
I pretend we’re going to be fine.
Seven times your face floated up.
Each time I wept.
I want the rains to fall on your garden.
Maybe the gods will be kind
When they look on you wherever you are.
Maybe you will be ok.
Maybe you will get better.
When Sunday comes
I will have ham and cold beer.
The Holy Ghost and I
Will pop wheelies by the trash heap
And try to scare squirrels.
As many as possible.
As many as it takes to forget.