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November Rain
The November rain was a gray
curtain
dividing the campus sharply
into near and distant.
The storm sewers overflowed.
Fish swam up out of them and walked into class,
not caring that it was the wrong school.
The wet air reeked of worms and tasted like fall leaves.
The rain drops sizzled as they hit the sidewalks and
a gauze layer of white mist rose from the ground
and shrouded the distance.
Puddles shimmered loudly on the bitter, smooth streets.
William Auld, is this what it's like in Scotland?
(Actually, it was too late in the year to smell like worms.)
Friends gathered on the lawn to discuss the future.
"Birds will someday return and cause the
weather to turn warm again."
I said, as neutrinos shot from dying stars
passed uncaring through my body.
"I really hope I get a signet ring for Christmas,"
she said to no one in particular.
I just stood there among the wet leaves of truth
where the flowers along the path
turned their heads away from me,
aloof and uncaring.
Then I leapt to the tree top and scanned the distance.
Well, Stechyo might as well climb down,
there's nothing to see
but the laughing buildings mocking my soaked state.
"I don't care. I must continue
my work until the fishes cry."
"Come, let me shelter you from the rain,"
The tree said, but his leaves had already fallen.
Antau ol ni foriros, ni manojn amike prenu.*
The rain did not relent, sheets of water
moving the nearby buildings
off into the distance.
*Esperanto -- pron: An'-tau ole nee for-ee'-rows, nee man'-oyn ah-mee'-keh
pren'-oo
= "Before we depart, let us take hands in friendship."
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