Summer lasted well into November,
making Fall nothing much–colorlessly
beautiful days in calendar rows, clear
sky bottles ranked in an open window.
So I love a dreary sky. There is drought,
so I love the soaking rain. Love it like
bacon, black chocolate, beer, and anything
with caffeine. I’m–again–trying to lose
weight. Sleep won’t accept my calls. And I love
sleep. Dreaming a good, long meaningless dream
is just like being wealthy. I would love
richess. Not to say I’d trade love for gold.
Not Jim. Or my brother, my cousins, not
even the cats. Oh, but I do love rain.