Big Rain

There was a big rain on Kellaway.

Steel buckle shoes, and double barrel forenames.

I serenade the prison with a song from the heart

and I dance blindly.

I know I wasn’t clever,

I know I wasn’t funny.

The striplight’s the lightning

and the dryer’s the thunder.

I was looking for answers in a storage container.

I can be anything.

Hand shakes so hard

I can’t write it down.

Words as stark

as they ought to be.

You think you do,

You don’t pray for me.

There’s a house just off Broadway

with a periodic table hung up on the dining room wall,

And when I’m passing just gone morning,

all the elements spell your initials over and over.

Hand inside the mystery box.

Bitten by uncertainty.

You think you do

You think you do

You think you do