rainy season, the

perpetual sounds of moisture
my shoes squelching through the dark, spongy leaves
the overflow of the eaves
falling against
the walls of my room while cars
plow through puddles and deluge
the sidewalks with gutter water
the patter of raindrops against
the ground,
as silent as the rain is here
i still think of rain as noise, a
soundtrack for a life.
a way to gauge the passing
of time.

wet tracks into the house, a trail
lurking on the floorboards
the impermanent marks
of occupation
you'd never know i lived here.
this
is not a home, and i act
accordingly:
withdraw
everything into my four corners,
wait the weather out.
rain gurgling into the gutters,
weeping down the shingles,
leaving rusty tracks behind
caressing the walls
i
do not touch, that do not
touch me.