Like neurotransmitters arriving at their threshold
and firing furious bursts of angry electricity
the rains fall
heavy on the thin translucent ceiling
called a roof if it sees the sun and weathering.
The drops fall hard and patternless
mechanical sounding but
nature at its best west wetness
dripping and splatting like pancakes
on a rigid skillet. Embryos of
tear drops falling from nowhere and ending up someplace different also
known as nothing. Rain falls up
depending on where you live yet still hits
whatever subtle solid surface
created by emptiness with such force our eardrums sing and vibrate,
like it actually obviously exists. Gravity
fucks with my brain sucks to my feet soles souls
keeping me grounded
and able to listen to the pitter patter of Argentine rain
on this open ended edifice and
quadrant-plane.