it's raining hard today, very hard,
and it looks like they're scrubbing down the world.
next door my neighbor watches it rain
and thinks of writing a love letter /
a letter to the woman who lives with him   
cooks washes his clothes and makes love with him
and looks like his shadow /
my neighbor never says words of love to his woman /
he goes into the house through the window not the door /
you may go into many places through a door /
workplace, headquarters, jail,
all the buildings in the world /
but not into the world /
nor into a woman / nor into the soul /
i mean / into that box or place or rain we give that name /
like today / when it's raining hard /
and i find it difficult to write the word love /
because love is one thing and the word love something else /
and only the soul knows where the two meet /
or when / or how /
but what can the soul explain /
that's why there are storms in my neighbor's mouth /
shipwrecked words /
words that don't know the sun's out because they're born and                            die on the same
night he made love /
and leave in his mind letters he'll never write /
like the silence between two roses /
or like me / writing words to get back
to my neighbor who's watching it rain /
back to the rain /
and my exiled heart /