it's the middle of january.
out my window it’s raining.
everything seems like those old kiddie pools
with the whale in the middle, raining water on your head.
i do realize i just used rain twice, as a metaphor for itself.
if you were here
and not on a train,
you would have pointed this out to me.
some other time maybe:
as i lay in bed
you sit up, resting on one arm.
i think about all the bras
that have lied to me.