and the thunder falls
- like a madman's heart,
fighting with itself.
and who do you think wrote the lightning?
or have you forgotten already when the gods sang
and cried themselves empty onto the ground?
and there's something like
(or maybe it's just really heartfelt rage)
in the rain as it scatters and doesn't have time
to make puddles.
[I remember rubber boots and yellow raincoats
and stomping in brownish pools of after-rain.]
but this is the wrong kind of rain,
this rain is for singing and
in the wildness that will break you because it's too strong
to simply hold your hand: this is for
understanding that science is a religion
and you can't even know that you know
this rain is for being somebody you never thought you could be,
because nobody can hear you laughing
and if you die, at least you die living.