faux song in the city

he awakened
to the rain
steady rain
falling and falling
a constant
strong
patter

only with the slow rise
of awareness
came the realization
he was not
at home
beneath a tin roof
but in a hotel
in the city

on the first floor

through the window
he saw the source
of his not-rain

air conditioners
humming
rattling
in a constant patter
of sound

an auditory imitation
of home


© Frank Prem, 2017

July 2017 Poem #32: the hunt for the wild arancini

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