water drips from tin roofs
tears from heaven
shed for abandoned souls
outcasts from society
homeless urchins of god
we have
for all
too long
avoided the rain
ah but
when we were young
as coatless hunters
we pursued
the fairies
that danced
upon the pools
here and there
as they scurried
between raindrops
never
getting wet
a feat
which we were
certain
we could master
with enough practice
but
those days
gave way
to being
responsible
and
wearing
the proper attire
when
it rains
refraining from beliefs
in fairies
and
mastering magic skills
how sad such
narrow thinking
can become
engrained in our lives
but
it’s raining now
won’t you come with me
and
dance between
the raindrops
an evening thunderstorm
caught me
without my rain gear
and
the brown bag prophet
caught me
before
reaching my car door
offering shelter
beneath his
beach umbrella
he said
i was
just thinking about
this woman
i knew
lord she was fine
but
we lost touch
that made me
begin
to hate the fact
that i cannot
go back in time
and
change
a few things
people
i
should’ve
said
i love you to
and
others
something less
accepting
but
i realize
i cannot go back
so i’ve
also
begun to realize
that each moment
of the day
is precious
he waited
for me to open
the car door
and
i
and
my impatience
felt
rewarded
a burst
of cold air
mingles
with spring rain
sending chills
down spines
of
overeager campers
campers
pitching tents
along the riverbank
in hopes
of finding
lost treasures
but
discovering only
plastic bottles
without pirate maps
or
messages
from long-lost lovers
nor
was there found
ancient arrowheads
from
long
vanquished tribes
known by
all
school children
to have dined
upon a fare
of human veal
but
fearlessly
these pilgrims
of adventure
prepared their meal
of can beans
and
over-processed hotdogs
sharing their culinary delights
along with ghost-story desserts
falling
soundly asleep
until
the coyotes
reminded them
of
where
they were
when
the rains come
construction dust
will be washed
from these
city streets
old motor oil
will be washed out
to sea
when the rain
comes
and
the sidewalk stains
from a drive-by shooting
of a child
will join
the river of tears
that could not wash
a mother’s pain away
when
the rains
come
my cousin
tommy and i
would go out
after a hard rain
at night
with old coffee cans
to collect
as many worms
as we could
for fishermen
our lights
exploring the landscape
probably better
than most snipers
scanning a battlefield
our goal
was not to kill anyone
but
just to collect
enough wiggling things
to buy
highly desired
baseball bubble gum cards
not
budgeted
by our parents
i think about it
every time it rains
as I drive
my beamer
towards
the beach