Lumber pillars hunch under the weight o' the roof
as Tom Waits croaks foregiveness,
seconds grooving,
clock ticking toxins away:
make it rain.
A boyfriend-girlfriend,
traditional Siamese,
shoulders co-joined,
slop down a gyro and
giggle and their secret,
a love a monkey could see.
Curdled feta reminds of last night,
sticks in the back of the throat:
mooks in sweats share beer
counterfolk swap stories
(passing normal for witty).
Only supreme effort holds in
my drool, lo-tops quivering,
stomach roiling with activity.
Make it rain -
o, make it rain.
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