Bubble boy

Failure in a poet is from a lack of rigor in life.

Not in a dull symphony of words or

an empty treasury of metaphor but

a desolate imagination and strength of will.

You talk all day about the rain, making up theories, and reading

every book you can on the weather. Bubble boy,

you refuse to step out into the rain.

But I rush outdoors

and soak myself in the veil of the sky.

I remain there in a painfully dark cloud until I forgot myself

and found a second nature deep within.

The perfumed smell on the morning dew brings

me home and when I hear thunder,

I burst through the door running

damn the boots!

damn the jackets!

damn the fear of death!

Cold and shivering, I stand

under a grey sky. I gasp

in the arms of love.

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