I thirst for autumnal rain that tastes o’ English Breakfast Tea.
There was none, so I returned to my sand castle under the sea.
I returned tomorrow,
but they only had summer sunshine that tasted o’ Sunny D,
which was all right in itself, I s’pose.
But I still wanted that rain.
& then they said they had summer rain,
& I told them to stop being zany.
—Summer rain.
What kind o’ bullshit is that?—
I told the guy,
I told him, —Hey, I know what discus you’re throwing.
You’re trying to hoard all o’ the autumnal rain ‘way from me.
You think I don’t deserve autumnal rain,
think I’m not good ‘nough.
You all despise me,
Think I’m dirt.
OK.
I understand.
You’re probably right.
Goodbye—.
So I went home to brood in my shady gray chamber o’er how best to drown my head in the sink
when I heard a tink.
I went outside & there I found
rain blurring into white smoke gainst the gray clouds.
I opened my mouth to drown myself in its icy ichor
when it occurred to me that it didn’t taste as sweet as I’d originally inferred.
I sneezed, freezing.
I went back inside to ‘scape the jacket-breaking breeze
(seriously, the wind just grabbed my jacket & ripped it ‘part like a gorilla.
What the fuck?)
& as I brooded in my briny mood, it occurred to me,
that I could use winter snow that tastes like chocolate-chip mint ice cream.
