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august shower
the rain comes in from the west
at first the thunder overshadows
the highway din
rain, like tactical sex
or a good massage,
varies in intensity
i can only write a poem
i can not speak to you
of the physical joy
we don not tipple up
absorbing less for thirst
and more for flavor
the rain is on to your town
the asphalt is shiny
i am in the middle of a moment
where i don't know where
to go
i feel like the only one as
the neighbors, with lab coats
and office attire empty
the parking lot
i would like to take pictures
of your tactical joy
and i have a camera
