The rain is hidden.
And it’s all one color-
In these small and still times,
cars rush like waves
across the wet street.
My hair is wet and chilled.
I sit still on a clean still couch.
Behind me bedroom doors have closed,
And the tree shakes her head from side
To side in the free and lightest waves of green,
Like elephants on a savannah.
I won’t permit tomorrow to come
And one strap falls off my smooth cool shoulder
I have no memory
In the cool soap smell.
It only sounds the way
Wet streets sound.