February 22,2013
I've gotten to the point where I'll stay up all night long trying to finish a poem. I was writing this one past night until three in the morning and then all day long until now at 1:37 AM. Guess I'm crazy. But last night there was this wonderful rain that I just had to write about (in a way) and get a few pics of. Here's my latest. I still have several others I haven't yet posted. I'll get to those.
How It Is
You know how it is... late at night...
when it rains... Yes, you know. How
your hands flutter about looking for
something to do to occupy themselves:
dancing around on your lap, touching each
other, tapping out restless rhythms on your
jeans… now and then a sturdy tug at your
beard… you do know, don’t you?
I can’t help myself sometimes.
I try to keep my mind away
rom memories, I write poetry
(or whatever this is called), drink
coffee, stare out the window,
watch the rain slither down the dirty
panes, study the pot holes in
the street as they fill up with rain…
Rain, Rain, Rain,
the world has turned to rain.
The streetlamps shiver, the trees
too… will it ever end?
You know how it is… wait long
enough, you get used to it, to that
constant, sodden feel, that cold
sensation you get when your shoes,
your thoughts are sopping wet. Yeah,
you get used to it… and once you do…
it suddenly stops.
rrw o2-21-13
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