The rain came around midnight.
The standard fare:
Water picking its way through trees and dirty
balconies, gutters and empty boxes
(on its way to the sea, no doubt).
A period of light mist, followed by more assertive drops,
The type that mean business, mother****er.
And then the ventricles and atria,
A thumb or two, maybe the remnants of a face
Like a discarded rubber sheet.
Axles and tires, a sparkplug, a rake, made holes
in the street, falling from such heights.
Bits of glass and bits of water emulated one another
As they met with the ground, each
breaking in their own way,
according to the physics of the day.

We walked in our sleep, through the rain and
these discarded things. You spoke to me
In a voice like a long sigh heard clear across
the water of still lakes
in the dark.

"The water is rising. They'll have to
drag the river to find us."

We used a map, drawn for us by skilled Cartographers,
And it led us to where we had expected to go
Postcards were scrawled, a quick hello,
Then on to bigger things,
"What will we do come spring?

By then the rivers will be high. They'll have to
drag them all to find us.
(Among other discarded things)."

Of course, there were moments,
Few and few,
Standing on piers above ocean wakes,
Where we danced and sang and screamed our names,
Out into fogs and hurricanes
At passing ships and fighter planes
(And other more important things)
But we got no answer so,
We turned to go.

And now, in the familiar rain,
Silent, sleepwalking from time to time
We notice once again that the rivers are running high.

Our love is all behind us,
They'll have to drag 'em all to find us.

nicely done!
i enjoyed the flow (among other things)
haha...couldn't pass that up...sorry

anyway, i enjoyed the piece!

I love the way this reads. Really draws you into the mood of the piece.

Nice write