This is kind of a personal poem. Wasn't too keen on form at the time. I just wanted to capture my feelings and the atmosphere.

Summer Rain

It begins with the wind

Flush his cheeks

Wrap his bare shins

Ruffle the cotton tee

The hail is flung from the sky

Rejected

Striking tin cans and street

Stinging his cheeks

Summer rain

Like a record. Vinyl.

Suffocating, sweetly humid.

Choke. Choke. Choke.

Rain saturates the heated

pavement.

Releases a pungency that's

hard to compete with.

Sarah Slean CD whirs

to life

completing the painting

he runs his hands through

the mop upon his head.

He grins gleefully, at ME

God, how I love summer rain

There's no moon to 'luminate him

Yet I see clearer than day

his cotton tee is soaked

so exhilaratingly through

he opens his mouth to swallow

the sea upon his head

he is grinning gaily at ME.

I press my nose to my

window screen.

Utte Y, close to death

my fantasy isn't real.