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.