Monday, April 29, 2019





--IT’S HARD FOR YOU I KNOW, TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE NOT GIVING UP 

  
Etiology


The rain opens its eyes,
says, Good morning, Sunshine, 
says, Good morning, Gorgeous. 
But does it mean it? 
Am I sunshine or gorgeous,
or am I slogged and hideous? 
A runny yolk? 
Raw hamburger snug
inside a bun? 
There are enough votes
to get anyone elected,
yet the rainfall is a tantrum
throwing furniture
through the air,
smashing glass,
asking for yet another referral. 
Now the rain’s nodding precocious,
flippant and sardonic,
yielding liquid whips. 
It tells me, 
You Tall Drinks of Water 
are all the same,
what with your bony knees
and kaleidoscope dreaming. 
Here, have some more. 
What?  
More?  Really?
You’d think water was
a Bounty Hunter desperate
for rent money,
the way it seeks to
shackle my joints and
hoist my disbelief. 
The truth is, I
fell in love with your ocean. 
The truth is, I
walked off the plank
for you
while every drunken
pirate applauded. 
Isn’t it ironic? 
Isn’t that everyone’s
idea of a happy ending? 
And what did you do? 
You watched the movie
until the credits rolled,
wiped a sheen of butter
across your drenched thigh
and led me on further
saying, It’s okay.  
I’ll help you swim.



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