I no longer know What to think of anything; And so I don't, Inhabiting instead this one small, Silent sliver of a body Circled all around by feeling Waiting for the rain to start. It isn't here that love resides —"just passing through," it says— "On my way To nowhere in particular. That's where the action is," it says. And the rainbow out there on the river For all the world to see Appears to be a destination Instead of temporary light.