78poem

January 15, 2011

When rain begins at and falls from streetlamps
I think of China and its wisemen in the woods
choking on silence. Their rain was like a light
that sustained their stare when everything
else was solved and decided, each drop spit
from a mysterious recycled source—
Or were they just falling deeper off the grid
to avoid the Levi factories imbedded in the horizon?
Doesn’t matter, I’m not wise, I’m stooped
on the steps watching girls run in flip-flops
as time rivers up the gutter.

LOCATION: Iriri, Brazil – On hotel steps during a sudden tropical downpour, parents are showering in the room.

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