There's a rain outside and it sounds so sweet.
the voice of every drop hits the window glass
and it sounds so sweet.
beating like a loosen vein
i bleed better when it rains.
If i weren't too lazy, if i wouldn't need to come out from
my artificial shells, i would have gone outside,i would have
run outside, unlocked all the locks, turn any key i could
have found on the way, take the elevator fast downstairs, go
outside, away from my building into the storm and knock my
unshiny snickers three times and then i would say: "there's
nothing like the rain", "there's nothing like the rain",
"there's nothing... like the rain" and hope to drift away
into another one's tale , to be another girl, to walk on
others' pavements, to sleep on different beds, to find a
different song that my mind can't let go from, to find green
paths and purple lanes and blue people watching t.v in a
different way. and it doesn't have to be green or purple and
nobody has to be blue. i just want it different, different
than i use to... but the rain must and i mean it, it must
stay the same, it must fall as sweetly as it does now.
i must hear it and immediately smile coz' i know my
infections, i know my rashes, i want to hear the rain and
forget  about all my diseases and all my weaknesses...
It sounds so sweet, i don't know exactly like what, but i
don't argue with no one about that so i don't give a fuck.
So here i am under my nutshell, beneath my warmy blanket,
thinking about the rain, i may be a rain- listener but i
like any minute of it.





1997 rishon