The Rain Sends Wet Memories

We pine for a sun roof
we cannot get close enough to the sky
perched at the top of the parking tower
the rain crossing rooftops marching towards
us in a shimmering aurora of silver curtain
a vexed lover crawling over the bed sheets
swarming us in the million voices
wet chorus heavy in saturated innuendo
a pile of used books between our legs
yellow pages of exacerbated lovers
scheming plot twists
our fingers smelling like a long-haired cat
an old woman's ostentatious wig
yellow eyes and a pussy's poker face

she's talking about science
about the children of tomorrow
about the city below us connected in
arterial memory
rain like blood flowing
trickling tributaries on the windshield dancing
frantically to distract us
from our racing hearts
from our wild lusts
from having to look at one another for too long

she's talking
this rain has me returning again and again
to the memory of a pair of small black underwear in
a pile on my bedroom floor
of my fingers moving between her legs
of the ecstasy of her face in my pillow
and her warm moaning.

TA