Why? Z.


I am walking in the
rain.

Droplets hit my jacket and slide off onto the ground,
creating footsteps of puddles on the fresh, wet concrete.
I wonder if they get trapped under the smoldering grey,
or can they find their way out when the sun quietly appears
in the lunar aquarium every once in a while?
Do they evaporate into the air, steaming up windows from the inside out of
a r-r-rocking machine of death & mostly mistaken life?
Love, maybe.

I don't want to have a baby, mom. I don't want to do drugs or smoke or drink.
I don't want to be a rebel stuck with a stupid cause while the others keep walking, walking away.
Do you understand how good you have it?

The rain's been letting up over the last half hour and thirty three seconds.
More of a light drizzle now.
But I still feel somewhat naive and ignorant,
still feel more like me, myself and not you. (It's never you, is it?)
Crocodile hands pulled at my hair and skeleton teeth screamed for apology/forgiveness.

No, she is not John, Annie;
mother of the twisted, crying branch.
Because I am not the sage of nightmares,
the one with the rainbow coat.

I,
am walking in the rain.