The air is a miraculous shade
\nof invisible white.
\nThat\u2019s what happens to rain
\nafter midnight.
\nTo old guys like me
\ntaking walks in the rain.
\nWe have no other place to go.
\nTo be authentic.
\nTo be permitted to think
\nand shout out loud,
\nunafraid of bats,
\nof the sky\u2019s luster,
\nof old concrete,
\nas old as our faces.<\/p>\n
We see ourselves in puddles,
\nin the roses of dark puddles,
\nunder the lamplight
\nwhere nothing exists
\nbut ourselves and the silence
\nof the rain.
\nRain,
\nthe only language that speaks
\nto the heart,
\nthe only comrade
\nthat eases the light and dark
\nof all memories,
\nflaring up in insane pictures,
\nsoft faces,
\nboxes of life piled in a cellar.
\nTaken there,
\nsealed, wrapped, hidden away,
\nput aside,
\none box called youth,
\none box called love,
\none box for all the bills
\nI never paid to others,
\nfriendship, attention, encouragement,
\nand just plain company.<\/p>\n
And some boxes,
\nseveral,
\nof odds and ends,
\ntastes, lacquers, holidays, special events,
\nchance, one of a kind glances.
\nThey all come back in the rain,
\nthe only silence,
\na man looking into the mirror
\nof life,<\/p>\n
gazing into its dark lacuna,
\nseeing the soul in its puddles,
\nand wishing.
\nIf only I had kissed them more,
\nstayed with them,
\ngiven more of my hands and face,
\nthose eyes
\nlooking up from the street
\nwould not stare back at me,
\nand make my heart
\nbeat so loudly,
\neven above the sound of the rain.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The air is a miraculous shade of invisible white. That\u2019s what happens to rain after midnight. To old guys like me taking walks in the…<\/p>\n