Rain… forecasted, 

black rain…through the canvas of this traped crazy city. 

I need to be out.

I need to be there in her breaking house, 

I have told her to keep the windows open and let those untimed urban inequalities pour in. 

I will be there for a day. 

I am sure we will forget to eat…I am sure we will forget to ask each other how have we been all these times…

I am sure we won’t be making surreal loves.

Rather we will lie to each other, 

we will act like we have become two enlightened madnesses without each other. 

She doesn’t drink whiskey…but she smokes, 

So I guess we will be drinking coffee…we will see the naked cars and men singing folks. 

She will be bathing with open door…

steams…her breasts full of clouds…steams. 

Then when we will see the fluorescents, reflecting from wet rails, 

I will leave…

And I will wonder around the deserted city with little bit of love to go for. 

My past is a flood and perhaps my future will be a drought…

But today I am gazing in rain.

………………………………………………………………..

Photograph: Google.