The Difficult Miss S.
and Her Nibbly Things
(on randomly flipping open
a book of writing by James Joyce
on a short car ride and reading
two out-of-context lines each page.)

All the day, the rain doth fall
   Without sun, nor break
      of cloud.

The rain, the rain,
the rain, the rain,
Oh! the rain, the rain, the rain—
      it doth fall.

Down.
Without sun.
Since the day begun
   there is no sun.
Only rain.

The rain. No
   sun save but
      for the rain.

It doth fall
   upon the ground

like rain.
   My heart bursts.