here comes the rain

waking up to the pitter patter of rain is wonderful.

they are repainting my block.
from the blue hues to blank white and then pale orange.

the trash on my window ledge is gone.
how disconcerting.

what i wrote with cement is gone.
how absolutely disconcerting.

but time will pass as it has, always.
and the years will roll by and soon
we will be dead.

so they can repaint my block
and they can change everything,
because we are all going to die.

the ensuring struggle to capture in words
the infinite possibilities of a life not lived.
(the last time they met)