To Taste the Rain

The window is open,
glass sheet hanging out
into a torrent of rain,
Streaming with water so thick it overflows.
I sit in our afternoon carriage,
Our bay of windows facing no sun
So we never know how much time had passed.
Thinking with your name on my lips
My hand hangs out into the rain
Soaked while getting more wet
And trying to dry; guttatim
in sheets of falling water.

You once asked me why
I never closed my windows.
Your lips filiform as I shivered,
Sick from exposure and
High on your mel-meaning care.
I told you I hated being alone,
That windows made it easier
For others to be with me.
You sat down in front of me,
Smiling so bright.
Your eyes reflected me back,
A dark spot in your Earthy green souls.

You chided me and told me to
fling away my autophobic ways,
while placing your knees against mine
We sat vis-a-vis style and
let our emotions be the horse
that pulled us where we needed to go.

I pull my hand out of the rain
as the memory fades to lust
and place my dripping fingers
against my lips.
I don't taste the cold rain,
I taste you.
Closing my eyes;
I let myself be that dark spot
In your Earthy green soul again.