I dash around the maze of alleys and city blocks
shaking with rain, touching the dampness of my hair
there’s no lid on my cup of coffee
so instead of cream I take rainwater
tasting the Earth’s tears in a styrofoam dreamcatcher.

And it feels as if I’ve been crying
but who can really tell in this weather?

The storm sounds mechanical
water against windowpanes is the tapping of keyboards
thunder is static and ringing cash registers
everyone’s eyes are the color of damp wood
as I crawl further into the Earth via escalator.

Sliding a crumpled bill though bullet proof plastic I ask myself,
how many bridges have burnt in this flood?

Down this deep the rain static is gone
turnstiles click in rhythm with woman’s pumps
only to be drowned by subway trains and shivering tracks,
not sure if the next sound will be my heart ripping apart
or automated doors parting biblically in front of me.

On days like this the world is emotionally bankrupt
but do we have enough to pay the debt?

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