The internal weather report

[varadia]

Untitled

And if it were raining
I would see your face in every
movement of the sky, that
impenetrable gray

concrete and the glare of
the streetlight dripping

under the rain sodden canopy
the scent of drowning
earthworms closes my throat; I

cannot breathe for you.


So, yeah . . . it needs a better title, but all my brain is coming up with is puns (so far beyond irony that it's painful).