prelude

at 11:40AM the rains start in the bronx almost
musically
the andante soaks the sidewalk
intro is measured before
the sounds of droplets run divertissement
through the chewy fabric of treeleaves that
rustle cryptic movements
hypnotic in the sizzle of brushed snare and
the street is made of heavy eternal material
perhaps shuddering
perhaps prescient or
ominous but currently just
wet with celestial improvisations and
i take my steps from the door in 4/4
only to mopishly
return to my apartment as i try
to figure if this is rhapsody or
deeply known and i've
never seen so many windows in my neighborhood
closed in the summer as
plunged earplugs by the orchestra we
position and believe that
we are listening