its an early eggshell evening
my first rainstorm in brooklyn
the horizon is straining to drum an apology to heaven
and rivers getting shook down in the rhythm

my first rainstorm in brooklyn
and my mind is a spider
anansi weaving some dull heartbreak
and this page is a bad joke

my first rainstorm in brooklyn
is desire
a humid day cooled by thick clouds
kisses ink stamped across my imagination
are blotted by the swollen droplets sliding slick
across the window

my first rainstorm in brooklyn
is a mournful orgasm
torrid and torturous
on an electric summer night
languid and delicious
between blankets of thick heat

i wanted this to be a love poem
but it is some sticky sweet remorse
some mouth ringed with dried nectar
of stolen fruit

my first rainstorm in brooklyn
is over
before i can finish smearing it across reluctant pages

some where
some when
we kiss under a cloud
and im not sorry
your eyes submit
to my lips
without a tremor
the air is canopy
and forgiving

is that place brooklyn?
or some palm tree place?
some night dipped in a calypso rumble?
is that place some glass city arching over a lake?

some where
some when
a sky will forgive my wishes
hot on your ear

daydreams chastised by lightning
but the storm is over
before the poem
so perhaps
some when
perhaps brooklyn