All night the sound had
come back again
and again falls
this quite persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of the rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent ---
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness,
the fatuousness,
the semi-lust of
intentional indifference.
Be wet
With a decent happiness.
- Robert Creeley
