In the backyard rain slams the earth, in the puddles leaves swim, a bird with red plumage rests on the tree it has a high pitched cry, does this rain bother it like it bothers me?

This is the rain of love, where is my love then? Long distance drowns voices, the telephone line's static is a troublesome fly on the cake of this day, dripping green and vitamin rich.

Time evansences most emotions, do you love me/love me not? And then do you love taking walks when it rains? Are you well? How is your love life? And do you listen to the sound of thunder?

Rain has no questions, it's still and falls incessantly, implacable roughness of it's thin fingers that flip flop on the bridge of my nose startle me, just as when you squeezed me first.

2002:03:30 21:00 Atlanta