cold electric rain

Photo by Sam Jean from Pexels

so much scaffolding on these artificial streets,
makes it so I never even have to feel
a single drop of rain…
what a holy brutal luxury
to be conveyed from stop to stop
by the uneven propulsion of automated beasts,
clinking and clanking,
and spitting out hot, wet, dirty steam…
thirty pounds of expensive corporate tech
strapped to my back, still not as heavy
as the thick, woolen invisible blanket
of always being watched —
mommies and daddies in different colored suits,
protecting and saving, supporting and growing
their armies of super-smart and responsible
drone-babies—but, yeah, we’re always aching
for home, baby
and never quite finding it—
never discovering the solace of sanctuary,
never really knowing any meaning
outside the promise of achieving…more and more,
and yet always taking our beatings
under these tattered, makeshift shelters
— these cityscapes perpetually under construction…
I know…we hope, we silently hope
one day, maybe by accident,
to feel just a little bit of that cold electric rain,
on our tired, burnt-out faces

Franco Amati 2022

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.”
―Philip K. Dick