making exceptions

short poem about rain during the holidays

making exceptions

thunderheads are chasing me down the sidewalk
the season has erupted, but too late for the holiday

this night was born to me on quivering tongues, lips forming the
sweet ups and downs of improv, acid jazz
variations, as Cat would say

the rain,
(pelting down bottle cap drops in pools at the sidewalk at the side of the curb)
gets me too soon.

i pass the museum, the mechanical gorilla couple are still
turned on,
the lovely gal picking invisible vermin from the shoulder of
her hairy mate as he guards the door, still prepared to
fascinate any curious children who might pass

the nightkeeper has forgotten them, rushed off to home,
rushed off to the holiday,
left them to work tirelessly through the night,
their silicon hearts bleating out binary lover's codes to one
another, beside the heavy doors to the museum, in the rain...
through the night...through the holiday