i walked home in the rain again
and thought about dumb cliches
and getting splashed by city buses
and tossing pennies on cold cement
and why the stop lights glow so strangely.
i wondered why the gardens never stopped
growing over and over their bounds
why the tides only dance
to the song the moon sings to them.
i thought about running mascara and
smudged lipstick and runnier noses.
i thought about how high up
the sky really is,
how angry the ground must be
that they can never touch.
i made it home in the rain at midnight
and the warmth from inside the windows
seemed even stranger from this side
i have to wonder: is this my world?
if i walk up those steps, is that my door?
what will the little silver key open up to?
i thought about sleeping with windows open
and dreams of past embraces
and i unlocked the door.