Hard Rain

[a permeating terror of isolation and separation, people hiding from engagement with excuses about the way things are. The  rain is that obfuscation, dangerous miscommunication, that can’t be escaped by those who have no hiding place, are  discounted. Yet, Earthly existence is cyclical. After rain there is drought, a chance to see from a different perspective.] 
Hard rain.
Obscuring
beads between
eyes and scene
on this relentless noir street.
Garish neon bleeds, recedes in hell-dark alleys.
Shadowy tricksters, their
exotic wares whisper through.
Rain, ubiquitous fall,
sky to sodden ground, over
sad mad months, eternal seasons.
Cinemas, bars, clubs,
gatherings of pulled up collars,
shiny leather, hurrying
into dry enclosure.
Out here we soak oblivious
puddle to splash,
unable to tell tear from
mere atmospheric surrender.
Breathing in the rain.
Not drowning
all these years
of adaptation.
When the drought descends,
will it take my breath away?
Will arid clarity
unveil swollen eyes?
Who will emerge
without the terror
of the rain?
.
.
.
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