Alexa, if you would be so kind
to play storms of rain
coming down and down all over
I believe they call it ‘white noise’
something lurking back there you barely notice
hypnotically constant
as it somehow soothes a savage breast
and relieves the stress of a daily existence gone haywire
and ultimately puts you
uno, dos, tres, ciao ciao
out like a light
even before you can kiss anyone goodbye
Somersaulting straight into dreamland
looking there for Alice and all her marvelous, albeit odd, playmates
leaping into puddles and watching the rivers rise
And as I am going under
deep into the spell of insistent
wet
weather
non-stop precipitation pounding against every possible surface
I can’t help but wonder
where in the wide world did these drops fall,
these sheets of water are battering what…
twisty roads in every direction, parched fields about to surrender,
the tin roof of a jungle shack, a circus carousel,
the final snow about to melt,
windows of a happy home, a flower bed bending down,
and what time of the night or day,
and coming down on top of whom…
lovers on a beach crossing the equator, soldiers about to engage,
woman at a bus stop finally trying to escape,
a child spinning round and round face turned up to the sky
rain storms inspiring joy or dread or gratitude
or some blank staring into the void
or lamentations about more of the same
and are those thunder claps really God growing angry
at things we’re doing wrong down here
a clever metaphor that even as a kid I had no trouble believing.
Meanwhile can’t wonder it all while unconscious
and Alexa persists
faithful companion
her lullaby storms driving me
down a winding black road into the oblivion I crave.

NOTE: Oddly enough, inspiration for this kept bothering me while I was trying to sleep. Even woke me up a couple of times.

Renton 3.8.19