He knows it’s raining
even before he hears 
it
a feeling
inside out
nerves and bone touching
cold sheets
all alone
sticking to his mattress
heavy headed
despite hours of sleep.
The shutters are closed
he doesn’t want to move
the patter is loud
sounds like music
after a while
maybe just the wind
blowing pieces
of ice and snow
maybe he slept
for six months
it’s winter
maybe six years
or sixty years
maybe the world
is ending
or has ended
polar bears growl
paw at frosty
doorways
and rusting cars
everywhere now
they took over
when the world turned to ice
six hundred years later,
now, it’s fucking now.
He glares at the shutters
what do they hide
so much
so he continues to
act like them
a closed secret
this is his reality
certain now
summer died
he died
love died
hopeless and dreamless
‘I’ll become an
honorary polar bear
I can teach them
fire and music
icicle clarinets
and seal gut
guitar strings.
I can be
their Merlin
their Da Vinci,
the last human
alive.’
He rolls over
drools into his pillow
forces himself
to sleep
just a little more
until maybe
the world might
end again.
