Rain Music
the clunky air conditioning
in the corner
clicks its way on,
percussive drums of
rainy-hands on tin roofs
rusty gutters
rattling in time
bum, bum, bum,
the leaky ceiling thumps
to the beat
as clear drops fall into
cracked, white, plastic
bucket
found on the side of the road,
abandoned,
three corners down
cars fly past below
adding their bloated roar
to the din
and the orange tabby from
down the hall
scratches incessantly at the door
yowling every
two or
three minutes
and the water drenching
the pavement and the people
sings to its own tune
as everything clashes and bashes
together, until the city is filled
with grey
rain music.
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