When
all you can think is
even the rain
is trying to rain—
stormy weather.
When
dead relatives of yours
keep popping up on Facebook,
portend the disconcerting sense
that, somewhere
far off
against your
will, you're
being prayed for—
stormy weather.
Black and white, moving
picture: someone
whom you never loved,
were never born to—
in the future—
they're a spinster.
Emotional fermata, E minor trill—
keeps raining all the time.
All the time.
Swell.
Forever.
