that, with the rain clouds
now parting
and the light drizzling down
like honey
from the sun
on the wet city streets
which are glistening
like tongues, you too
would get
sweetened, would be cleansed
of what was wrong.
But in truth, there's no
asylum in a world that bests
its flaws;
it's a dirtying feeling
when you sense you
don't belong.
