Rain Man

The rain is what really moves me.
Some guys are all about the infinite
cosmos, others live for the mysterious
world of the sea. For me,
it's the rain. Any old stretch of it
will do, a quiet city drizzle,
a winter storm on an island
hillside, a Florida downpour
in summer that instantly cracks
open everything locked up too
tight. Sure, there's the ozone
and the unique smell of an
approaching rain. Oddly, this
is one part of my life where
smells don't add up to much.
It's the sound that gets me.
I'll be taking a nap on my
couch to wake up grinning
like a fool for the sound of
the pitter-pat on my roof.
I'm not waiting for a real
rain to wash the scum off
the streets. I'm waiting for no
rain that will bring
the Great Flood back. I'm
waiting for the anonymous,
everyday rain that touches
all of us straight from
the heart of nowhere. I ache
to understand that place,
what compels it to make
itself known by sending
torrents which speak of
a thousand years of torment
finally being let loose.
Why does it feel like the return
of every tear ever shed across
the world? Doesn't the rain
cry for us, sob in terrestrial
ways which dissolve all
the tough luck, all
the loathing and apathy?
Indeed, I truly am a rain man.
If only I believed in the dissolution
of hard luck.

(2007)