i haven't been fucked like this since grade school.

tonight the rain becomes the earth falling from hidden places in the sky. i can hear it make mud of dirt, and lovers of friends. and i ask, quietly, where are we going but down?

i'm not all there, in the head, you're not all there in the head. my mother reminds me, im not all there in the head, and i repeat sometimes im there in my toes and fingers instead.

and now - in this downpour of a moment - i lie on the street, on the cement so warm that i thinks its where all the love's gotten into.but where is your shirt? oh someplace else, and is that a light flickering in the house across the road? should i hide?

i rush back home, soaked with rain, i watched fall (like stars), am i poetic enough yet, yet? leaving rain-prints on the carpet but mum won't mind. mind you she never minds anything if its mine

but then it stopes and a quick shut-eye stop (i wonder) is it dew now that is sits like jewels upon the grass?the wind is lovely in my ear, voice like rushing water. n not down; though, through.