listening to the rain
in a sheet metal gutter
on the side of the building
making a hollow sound
dropping from the top
to the bottom
then flowing
like a city stream
over sidewalk
and to sewer eventually

(turns out
this poem i wrote
laying, hearing, imagining
was a lie
or a fiction at least
as i discovered
getting out of bed
for a glass of water
that the sound
which i thought was rain
was actually the radiator)