Monsoon Doubt

Hypnotic barrel of laughter
from outside on the corner
where the crowd is talking
and interchanging information
before the rain begins.

Before the storm starts
a flurry of worry from a few
who worry congenitally:
will it be too wet to
maintain a civil face?

Maintaining a civil face
seems unimportant in a new way,
like it won’t matter when the news drops.
Like it won’t matter out on the corner.
Like the laughter running out seems desperate.

A monsoon is coming,
and no one seems to care.
Outside is too damp, inside
is too dry, in-between
and above the clouds it does not matter.

The laughter is desperate.
It’s a given. It holds the rain,
is a diamond above the clouds.
As hard as one. As unfeeling as one.
Laughter eating the words as one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T