Thunder

The old man is beating
the bass drum, again:
rumba-dump! bam!
rumba-dump! bam!
upstairs, so far upstairs
his giant farts are steaming up
the sky . . .

We hide in vain
we’re already in the rain,
and if pollen mixes in
with that old yellow pain
that passes from Old Drain:
it’s really pissing down . . .

Please, no huge hail
old guy; no huge hail:
we have enough
obscenity in the mail
with ads from everyone
including places selling
stuff I’d never buy.
I don’t know why they try.

We live down here
at the bottom
of the greed chain
still trying what passes
for passing water
while it rains
in mortal pain again.

[This was written under the influence of Leonard Cohen’s latest collection: Book of Longing]

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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