--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.