Comrades in Tears


Rain is worst when it falls straight down, when it gives up.

If it wanted to be terrible, to come a storm and fight,

it should have done so.

It should have slapped its wetness against the brick houses

instead of hanging like damp hair.

The rain is depressing me,

like a middle-aged woman who doesn’t take care of herself.

Lift up your damp spirits, I want to say.

But I cried today, too,

so I don’t say anything.

I just sit on my bed and complain about rain.


The End

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