cold rain feels so good

The cold rain feels so good on my face
heated as I am, for how long I don’t know.
Dim winter tells me to make my own heat,
so I burn like a madman everything in sight.
Cold rain falls like music on a rusty tin roof,
like music on the plastic tarp that covers the lettuce,
like music on the walk and birds and squirrels.
Cold rain falls like tears I refuse to shed –
I’m sorry but not that sorry, no tears, no regrets.

Cold rain falls in pools of funny memory
of strange songs and by-chance perfect photos.
The cold rain feels so good on my skin
heated as I am by these dreams of touch,
dreams of warm smiles and secret thrills.
Cold rain falls like a thousand lovers saying goodbye.
The beautiful, saintly tears are warm, not cold.
Not cold like this rain, like my pickled finger tips,
the tears flow like a river in my memory.


  1. Good. I appreciate your response. That one is one that just came to me a few weeks ago when I was literally walking home from the store in the rain. I wish all of my writings came to me as quickly and directly as that one did. Most of them don’t. The drawing is circa 1990. It was done from a famous photo, maybe Brassai, but I can’t remember now. I hope you’re having a great day. It’s rainy and warm here.


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