Nor'easter

The rain in my hometown is low tide smell and 

foggy windows, thunder rattled,  

it is omnipresent. 

The rain in my hometown is the lingering 

of a lightbulb after you've flipped the switch 

and the stars that follow.  

The rain in my hometown is piggy bank boredom 

saved for a perfect day. 

The rain in my hometown looks just like the  

7-Eleven parking lot 

where I learned to ride my bike, 

it is the last payphone 

at the last bus stop 

on the last street before you leave town.  

The rain in my hometown is green-tinted skylines 

and low tide smell on the wind 

and bones, thunder rattled, 

when the water claws up the beach to swallow you whole. 

The rain in my hometown is  

all of the ways that these sleepy mountain drizzles 

are too dry to quench my thirst 

and the nights just a bit too cloudy  

to see the stars.