Rain

Thank God for the rain

-

Deep beneath the smokestacks,

between the black brick walls,

the steam corrodes and

distorts our lungs

and the needles — they scream for

withdrawal.

-

which has helped wash away

-

On empty streets,

the engines drone. Their silence has

been occupied. He screams for a sign of

some sort of slight relief and

the rain respondss

by tearing the paint off

these rusted bones.

-

the garbage and trash

-

They paint the town red,

as the waves loop and crash,

some lay down to grieve, unconscious,

others scavenge for faces to smash.

I wait in the smoke, alone,

two blue hands search for my vibrating phone,

watching the rain pile and gather

daring to wonder

what a flood might bring.

-

off the

sidewalks.