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'_Alone_,
adj. In bad company.'
Ambrose
Bierce
Not
under a cloud, but in one,
I'm
making heavy weather
of
the rainy season, its
trampolines
with droplets
strung
between shrubs' leaves;
where
steam climbs up through forest,
spiders'
webs, fog particles
form
in great floods from the past
like
branches reaching through thick mist;
there
comes no end of a problem
as
traffic murmurs below a grey sky
now
it's the rainy season,
which
is to be endured, though
I'm
making heavy weather of it.
Already,
a year has gone.
Distressed
to be told that alone
I've
so little by way of resources,
you
cannot see the compliment
in
being wanted quite that much;
and
I'm forced to admit
dependence
isn't pretty.
Again
in the heat, humidity,
stillness
this June without breath
of
wind, from a depth of summer,
here
you are, you listen,
here
respond, now, let it run
on,
confront the mustiness,
black
spots in a wall, foxed pages
and
the white fur over leather -
as
around us, heavy weather
turns
bearable at last.
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