May Torrents

The night is hardly young anymore

diverting  the westlands eastward

to avoid a new spring storm

I am,

scribbling down my feeble relief,

on a rear window on a way home;

Not looking back, just counting my footprints,

lost in an unwelcome shower of raindrops.

Smiling

we postpone then pose a new breed of floods

in a selfie of endless don’ts.

Too many shoes to walk in.

The hazel looks are too plain to notice.

Everything I felt has been used against me.

Everything I am has already been killed.

By drowning.

The wheel of faith circles around a Schindler’s list

of mundane mustn’ts under the cuddling clouds

Threatening us both, born the same year,
divided by seasons
and their grounded exponential frowns

each wrapped inside

a few duly principles and blah-blah platitudes,

right next to the life boats.

The last naïve romantics-
inhabiting these proud outskirts-

Calm down their fever with four-leaved clovers.

In their raincoats, I’d rather multiply this hope,

Though- for a rescue

We all need an extension, it’s certified.