Rainy Downtown
June 8, 2009, by Elder Conner McKinnon

I like it when it rains downtown
When within its piano sound
We pass through
Veils of rain, bejewels the ideal brow
Like an imperial,
And I am waiting for a pair
Of paunchy cherubs
To return you into the air.
There is a wordless aria that froths
Through the gutters of the streets and by which
We are borne briskly through alleyways
Graffitti’d by the fatherless, and so
Our raincoats flow through dewy ghetto valleys
And we become shadows
Because the clean light is busy
Flirtatiously splashing the gorgeous
Steely symmetry of sky scrapers.
The thunderous thing reels overhead
Mellow dramatic, carnivalesque,
And with its syrup laminates
Cigarette butts and neon lights
As alleyway expands into metropolis.
You comment something about how it’s funny how the rain
Cajoles, into their coffee shops,
The agnostics and pseudo-intellectuals
Yet draws out kids at play
And otherwise reclusive poets,
And though my attention is scarcely attuned
Amid the rude
Unraveling of shadow and sound,
I smile for you and ask, “Why then are you and I
Still out among these innocents
And aesthetes? Have we not deviated from their God?”
She smiles back and answers “Yes,
My love, we have been shadows, fugitives, forgivably distracted;
I like the way their truth tastes fresh, and is
Synonymous with bliss,
Is innocent and aesthetic,
Is blissful yet self-aware.”