It’s raining out.
The peaceful fall of water
washing away everything you left behind.
It’s one of the few moments
it gets quiet around here.
The neighbor’s kids
are shut up in their homes.
Sometimes it only lasts a few minutes,
other times it lasts for hours,
it always gives us a break
Once it stops,
the sirens pick up;
the car speakers start thumping,
trailer park mothers start screaming,
and the children are back
spewing their inbred hatred
Out of state northerners
think of this as “The Sunshine State”,
how it rains here
three to four months out of the year.
They create an image of some sun-drenched haven, of old leathery people, orange groves, mobile home parks with alligator mascots
and a great big talking mouse.
The short pissers do nothing but turn everything into a contaminated sauna.
The air thickens with moisture and automobile exhaust and the rotten smell of burnt sulfur
from the fertilizer plants miles away.
Within a few minutes you feel as dirty as a cheap whore after she’s been raped on Sunday.
Big, thick, monstrous clouds
that you can see forming on the horizon;
you can witness them moving over the land
black and blue bruised divinities
pouring out all around us.
Nothing but falling rain walls that hit the ground so strong
that everything vibrates.
We all get floated away in a maelstrom of flooded streets and overfilled retention ponds.
Just lie back and close your eyes;
Mother Nature is washing
her sexual organs.
I can already hear some far away ambulance
screaming its way
to some dead boy in the street.
The trailer park queen just realized
life has been unfair,
leaving her with three kids
and no smokes or drink
to get through it all.
The neighbor’s kids are already making their way
to newly born puddles.
With any luck they’ll trip
in the tar-oil-water-mixture.