and I think it’s going to rain today

(stream of consciousness poem)

On my sixty-eighth birthday

a tropical depression spins offshore

and the forecast is for rain all week

and I worry about whole beaches being torn from the shore

and the song ‘And I Think It’s Going To Rain Today’

is caught in the riptide in my head

and I curse Randy Newman and the tin can in street

and the trash receptacle that sits at the curb

waiting for the city to come by

and I tell myself that as soon as they come

I’ll wheel the container back to its place by the porch

because the trash people never close the lid

and when it rains I have to tip the water out

and the street will smell like garbage

until the rain washes the stench of it away

and I think it’s going to rain today

and I wonder if it rained the day I was born

and I wonder how good my parents must have felt

on that day to have a son who had not disappointed them…..yet

and I think about our youngest son and his wife

and how today is the due date for their first child

and how it would be cool to have her born on my birthday

and how after our daughter-in-law’s mother flies back home

my wife will journey to Pittsburgh to help with the baby for a couple weeks

and how she worries every time I go to the store

that I might be exposed to this COVID-19 virus

and she doesn’t want to infect the new baby

and she worries and she worries and she worries

because that is what she does

and I think it’s going to rain today

and I think about those that will lose a loved one to this damn virus

and I’m angry that the debate is not about what is best for America

but rather what is best for the stock market

and the election in the fall

and I watch as a turtle walks slowly across our yard

and I think that maybe I’ll put on shoes

and carry it safely across the street to the park

and I watch it traverse the pavement

and I watch it disappear into brown leaves

and I wonder what drew it to our yard

and what summoned it to walk in the direction of the park

and I wish that life was that simple

that I didn’t have to rush

and that all I need to do is keep moving slowly into the street ahead

and I will get wherever it is I need to be

and I wonder if turtles mourn other turtles when they die

and I think of how I have a poem to write

for a memorial service for a friend who died of the coronavirus

and how his fiancee is hosting a virtual memorial service

on the day they were to marry

and how I hope the poem will give solace

and I hope that I’m humble enough to become that conduit

and I worry that maybe I’m not good enough to be that conduit

but I tell myself that someone has to do it

and that I don’t have to rush

and that I just need to keep moving slowly into the street ahead

and I will get to wherever it is I need to be

and I’m waiting for the sound of water

to cleanse streets of this pandemic

and I think it’s going to rain today

5-18-20