Down, Pour

I imagine the clouds are a tsunami

calculate which direction the wave might hit

how long it would take to die

I write wedding vows for my Uber driver

tell my lover to have a good evening

The nurse asks me to relax my arm before the stick

she asks, again: let your arm hang like a noodle

It is! I tell her

Relax! she says

my jaw tightens

there is nowhere for the pain to go so it spreads

thin, hardens through my chest

releases into my gut

contracts into a rhythm that floods every vessel

He tells me good morning, asks how I slept

okay, I say, how about you?

I wait for his response like a farmer praying for rain

fruit on the vine

Eh, he says, you?

Round and round we go 

waiting for the rain or permission 

to give it up to the sun