Slowly at first.

Then the rhythm picks up
and both feet are tapping,
tapping like the drip-drop patter patter
of rain splashing down.

It’s more intense now
as his hands slap his knees—a downpour.

Then I see what he really is.

He is a tornado powerfully twisting and leaping,
sucking up the gazes of passers-by.

He is lightning lightly dancing,
burning intricate poses into my eyes.

He is thunder. His passionate cries reverberate
through the crowd that has gathered.

I want to shout and dance and leap with him,
but instead I toss a couple dollars in his hat
that he’s placed at his now motionless feet.

Gathering clouds are glowering at me from above,
and I decide it’s time to head home.

Don’t want to get caught in the rain.

She’s lost after she steps off the train,
Venturing to find a distant, unknown lover.
He sees her then, his lonely victim Jane.

He encircles her, rough like a rusted chain,
And repeats the charade, saying he loves her.
Words gasp and heave under the falling rain.

Gazing at her pale neck, her pulsing vein,
He slips his hand silently around the cleaver,
And bleeds her then, his lonely victim Jane.

Blood splashes and swirls down the sewer drain,
While strength and warmth and light leave her.
Words cough and wheeze under the falling rain.

With a twisted smile, he basks in her pain,
And says, “I’ll make you a coffin of cedar.”
He kills her then, his lonely victim Jane,
As words sputter and die under the falling rain.