Raindrop collection
You showed me your raindrop collection
Clear beads on a takeout lid / But they aren’t raindrops
It is boring old condensation / that you pretend is magic
It is steam / From fucking orange chicken That you hold in reverence
You keep them on your desk / like some glass cased gem collection
Drops of opal, collector’s item / I almost clench my fist at how juvenile it all is
I know you mean well / so my fingers uncurl
You pretend for me, and I believe you Not naively, but for want of some of this life / to mean anything