the tearjerker, and a short poem as it struggles to rain and fails.

Benoit wants his money.

Rodolfo's at a verbal standstill.

Marcello can't paint for shit.

it’s freezing in there and across the hall

Mimi’s dying.

you know how it became a standard

backstage ritual before an opera performance

where the male tenors spray their throats

and vocalize: “Mi, Mi.!”?–– well,

it’s not the “Mi, Mi” from the scale they’re singing,

it’s: “Mimi! Mimi!” ‘cause those are the tortured notes

Rodolfo cries-out with passion when Mimi dies.

one thing leads to another.

there are better poems.

it struggles to rain and fails.

there are better rainclouds.

there are better operas.