Selected Poems
The Avenue
Pouring rain
She never liked pouring rain.
She hated being wet, where she was from.
She waits for the slow down and stop
works a line of part-time parked cars
in and out and in and out
during a weekend overnight.
Pouring rain.
He never minded pouring rain.
His native tongue held twenty words for rain.
He outwaits a sun to down and disappear
paints graffiti on wet closed factory walls
up and down and up and down
during overnights, when she works.
They cruise the park, scratch surfaces for art and rent money
get drunk on margaritas at home until dawn, for no reason.
