***
it said on the sunday forecast that monday would be sunrain.
it said on the sunday forecast that monday would be 57 and wetbright.
i didn't know what this meant, so i prepared for neither
and made it class hardly noticing anything but what Mama Said, anyways.
at twelve oh clock the clouds burst and spread gold everywhere
all over the pavements, all into my moccasins, all through the pores of my lungs
but she said Aw, Goddammit/ It's Raining,/ I Don't Get This Goddam Weather
& i sank into the bottom of my black lukewarm coffee;
the stale chased away the wetbright, and my sunrain thoughts turned to drizzle instead
***
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