You said that everything is always possible
as long as we’re willing.
It makes me feel lighter
like reading Nazim Hikmet
plain and direct—
“My missing you
I mean being the last streetlamp on the last city block.”
Some people are terribly bored with Hikmet
too didactic
some people don’t like to watch a rainstorm
so many things to do.
The rain is didactic, says
you are going to feel wet now.
As I stood under an awning
waiting for the downpour to stop,
I saw a woman inside holding her head in her hands at an odd angle.
I thought her neck must hurt terribly
though she looked like she knew
what she was doing.
There are some people who would not be
bound by this woman’s sad tilt
even stuck in the rain, which kept pouring down
restless and gray.
I heard today every path to the heart is awkward
(I imagined a crooked line
like one of your few grays, lightning
among the dark clouds of your hair).
Later, I got lost in the cemetery
well, not lost, unable to find
the grave section 44
my wallet maybe dropped at my great aunt’s funeral.
It’s distressing to lose your wallet,
of course, all the graves put that right into perspective.
Does anyone forget death when the sky goes dark
at three in the afternoon?
We’re all thinking umbrella, awning, a little protection,
there are millions of volts
crackling above our heads—
much as I like the sky opening
today, in the rain, all I can think of
is how your hair sometimes smells like a storm arriving
(and I can’t stand people who won’t stop
to watch the rain).