He likes the rain

He says so

Anyway, and what can I do

But believe him?

He stands in it

Day in, day out

A rain of pellet-droplets,

Beer sprays

And cigarette sparks,

His coat long

Tattered and torn

As is to be expected

When you're out

In the cold.

Or just out cold.

I ask if he waits

For the sun, I know

I would. He should.

But his ears are so soaked

By the heavy drizzle

That he doesn't really

Give a dam.