DROP THE DRIZZLE
Chunk after chunk the drizzle strips the sky
Tearing it down to the earth. What of it?
We’re not better off, nor keener is the sight
Though it’s been a while we’ve had it in the eye.
Nor sharper is the image on the screen our brow
Hides dappled by the drops of brazen rain
Or is it we are spattered on the neck in vain
By a spread-legged dame, a Marilyn
Of sort upskirted by our rattle through the grate?
Nothing else is there but the drizzling spit
Of the rain absorbed in self-pitying.
Then, when you spot a toad just before she
Transforms into a beautiful princess
(Toads, we all know, are as ugly as sin)
Saddle and ride her on the outskirts of
A tale before Basho gets her on a plate,
In you a snail man slowly crawls distress
Leaving behind the slimy trail so fell
Yet glowing in the dark as it gets thick
Just like the sky unbending to a shout
Or even worse, a curse; that’s what spells out
The rain to you, run home, it says, away
No place like it when snow is in full sway
And a woman hot as a fryer seeks caress
Then all goes well as if it went to hell
In just a single simple rainy day.