maybe i don’t mind the rain

january 2023

(i wrote this about my roomate/favorite person in the world)

being friends with her is like knowing

a new peace; of moving to a gloomy and storm-ridden town with the expectation

that your shelter will be rare but that

when you have it,

you will savor it.

instead, you are surprised to realize two

things.

one, just how much you adore the rain; how you cherish it, to coexist with

it, to let it hang on your skin and dilute your worries;

the unexpected discovery of an ultimate, impossible comfort in its presence.

and two,

the way that it doesn’t rain enough.

the way that there are too many sunny weekends, days dictated by

suffocation and nights charged with nerves where the room,

already so humid and dense,

does not have space for all those

pitch black thoughts and in the heat they ruminate,

they ripen, the room starts to smell until

the rain is back and like magic,

the air clears. she comes back and

the multitudes of skeletons that carpet the floor are instantly

put to rest. pure sorcery! she must be a witch, there is no other conclusion.

and each time the clouds clear and

the sidewalk dries, you think you will enjoy this

much needed

break,

a chance to dry off, to be alone;

but you dread it.

because the rain, you see now, has changed you for

the better and there is nothing you desire more than to be back in your little

shelter,

watching some irrelevant t.v. show or microwaving nachos or fixing

your closet or doing your eyeliner,

and hearing the sound of her precious, rhythmic raindrops in the background.