Maybe it is strange to love
the rain but let me
tell you something strange: You
and I live on the brink of cloud; we hate it
when glory is wrapped
or unwrapped. There is really no satisfying us.
Say the sun is shining. Does it please even the pleasant
to know the center of this system
of light is not them
or their systems? It takes a lot of courage
to look. Costs your eyes. Not that I’ve done it but
I’ve seen old men and very young
girls wheeling in joy,
blind, loose-tongued joy.