Prenzlauer Twighlight

The air is hotter than you
before the storm
It swells and slides all around
heavy and moist
it caresses my skin.

The wind, warm, is like a madman
rushing dead leaves and debris
to my feet.

The birds are silenced but honking cabs, talking street lamps,
and the teeth-seething tone of the tram on the rails are raging.

A turn away, the cobbled lane has become eerie.
Now the pavement looks like steel slates mirroring my shadows.

Back on Schönhauser Allee,
break the sky
flash the clouds askew.
My feet are watered
with sleek dissolving drops.

Believe in my heart – thunder
light and merry
Forget the commuters
hustling home for a safe dinner
Believe in my senses
electric and strong – thunder

Heaven dark
Heathen white

Rain is life, unleashed, content with elements floating
carrying my thoughts of you
never receding.

And before I know it
I am home
as soaked and muddled as the soil of the rose which blossomed this morning
for you
and for me
‘spite the wrenching mood you set me in
for the loving soul you are
in the wetness of our selves.