When the rain falls hard, I see, I see, <br />Not too far before my eyes <br />Further behind me <br />Everyone is talking; I have disappeared <br />As the elevator doors slide shut, <br />Silently, unobtrusively, and <br />Without justifiable warning <br />Above the sound of the percussion of the spattering deluge <br />As tap dancers upon a tin roof, <br />Or before me <br />I witness through the pouring rain <br />Appearing as some corrugated transparency <br />Round shouldered, hunchbacked septuagenarians <br />Analyzing my thoughts, as written behind my eyes, <br />Some sort of literature, <br />Perhaps a mystery novel <br />Indecipherable? <br />Through the drumming of the raindrops’ symphony <br />I can still hear them talking, <br />As I walk around the corner, and hardly passed the second door <br />In the corridor, <br />Out of their line of vision, to them <br />I am no longer present- yet- They are still talking, <br />Their conniving expressions, I regard. <br />In all of this moment of disharmony <br />this moment of cacophony, arrested: <br />The downpour has suddenly ceased. <br />For just a split second, quiet rules. <br />I could be the last person alive on this planet. <br />My thoughts are contained inside of a safe, <br />Locked and keyed, A calm before the storm, <br />The pulsation of the heavy rain has resumed, <br />Tap dancers upon a tin roof, <br />Everybody is talking again, <br />They have taken the key, and <br />Unlocked that box, inside of which is that mystery novel. <br />Nosy old women donning rain bonnets <br />In shelter from the storm <br />Huddle around to read. <br />But I take no heed, as I laugh, much less aloud for <br />In my fondest dreams, I am the last person alive on this planet…<br /><br />Claudia Krizay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paranoia-32/
