110% chance of precipitation

she says against the lonely sun

that she needs to work on herself

and then waits for my approval

though night comes too soon

and silently for me to respond

to her mouth that still hangs open

teeth like stars turning black

for no other reason

than the sweetness of the surrounding world

*

isn’t there something nicer to say

like the weather which still goes

and look how it has gone now

because we’ve been talking about things

that aren’t so great

and as a writer i know i should avoid

limping general words like so

because i really mean so so

so don’t hold me accountable in letting things slide

like this conversation that is still instilling stillness

and repetition with variation in trying to create a different reaction

but it’s the same pieces just jumbled differently

and not nice anymore

not good

not me

i made a mistake

isn’t there more than that

can’t there be

shouldn’t there be

for i don’t want to be much anymore

with the little slippery niceness around

though it could just be the weather

and the rain that will come

it always does

even when we don’t