the Rains

I hope I wish the rains would come
And wash me hard like slap on skin,
I want I need the cleansing touch,
To really truly feel again —

To know the water on my eyes,
The soak of clothing, sopping wet:
A creature moved by scent and touch,
Not pictures on the Internet —

I want I need I wish I hope,
But still, I sit upon this chair;
A rumble, distant, in my ears,
And yet I’m here, while it’s out there.

The rains I felt in younger days,
I still desire. But, it’s strange:
To recollect, and claim to want
Is so much easier

Than change

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