It rains here and now.
It rains on the possible fat men in that doorway.
It rains in the desert.
It rains in the jungle.
It rains in the holes.
It rains in the shadows.
It rains vaguely here, with a fuzzy edge to the drops.
The colours of the rainbow shade into each other,
But on the whole we can tell one from another.
We universally hate the rain.
We mutter under our breath about rain.
It does not rain in every possible world.
Just in the actual one, here and now.
It rains on the concrete.
It rains on the objects.
It’s hard to determine why.
God help us zombies.
by John S. Wilkins | October 26, 2012 · 9:29 pm