eyelashes

the sound of rain in present memory
the crackle of the radio
and the wavering of streaming thought
hum of an engine
splashing through puddles
warm exchanges
the fist punches
a downpour through glass
the first pad thai
and two loves,
the first unexpected but the latter
already held close and dear
to the heart.
but then also
the burn to those
who are perfectly content
in flaunting what to me
is an absence, while to them
most easily and readily accessible,
although they would never know
they were doing so;
and of course the glares
of those whose eyes cannot
withstand the fluorescent lights;
and those who are
 distasteful (there really is no
other word to describe it);
and most devastating of all
the cold passivity of time
and closeness
in her queenship's acquaintance
(although it should really be
in her regard, as reactions
can of times be bitter.)

No, I should brush it away,
like a clod of mascera off my lashes
but really and truly
I sometimes lose faith in humanity.