-Thursday 4:15 PM 40 years ago-

when it rains its effects are felt indoors.

there’s nothing to watch on television in the wetness
of this late afternoon although the "Springtime Fresh"
disposable douche commercials are instructive.
the parakeet’s lifeless body is discovered belly-up.

still caged, it lays there among the droppings of Tuesday’s

equally weightless news.
I've decided to wait awhile to be certain and to mourn its passing.

the twelve year olds across the street

consider last cigarettes while approaching

their homes from a day at school.

It's a close call, but they say no, and for whatever their reasoning,

run the rest of the way home.

let's take an uneventful drive in the rain to clear our heads.

returning to darkness, we engage the lights.

we’re motived by rainfall,—
how it taps upon the pavement expanding its patterns under streetlight,
how it beads upon the bulbous roofs and barn-door hoods of parked automobiles
releasing the pungent scent of metal,
how the work-a-day weary

men and women drop their heads along the street,

contorting their expressions, confronting the water

as if its acids burn their skin.

disposition is a two-for-one chore tonight.

the articles of Tuesday's newspaper

roll the parakeet neatly in place among the weather reports,
the market closings, the arrests, the scandals of city hall and obituaries,

where a short walk through the backdoor

to Friday's trash bins lay this Thursday to final rest.

                                                      Fall River