restless

the natives are
restless
in this rain, jazzed
under
the clouds, stuffed
with bad food
and coffee, not dancing,
but pacing
the stale rooms.
how much rain is enough,
they say.
driving madly
to and fro.
where is the sun,
is there a God,
who am I,
does anyone care,
or know.
let's meet under the bright
lights
of someplace.
before it rises, before
this deluge
reaches the point, where
we have to build
a boat, and row.