North Carolina

Steadily, steadily comes the rain 

In sheets of pewter bullets. 

Beating down on the rental car, 

Tap, tap, tapping on the glass. 

I am, vaguely, aware of a voice, 

But by the time I hear it's not the radio 

He's stopped listening for an answer. 

Now he speaks just to hear the sound. 

I wish he'd just let me think, 

just let me be. 

All I want to do is stare 

At the churning, stormy chaos 

Outside the passenger window 

That looks like my belly feels. 

Well, what do you think? He asks, 

Well, what's your say? 

Could you live here? Would you be happy? 

I silently trace the paths of the raindrops 

Across the glass with my fingertips 

And don't speak my reply. 

The winds are whispering my protests, 

The clouds are crying for me.