quarantine

Nothing like cold air pulled in by hard rain to shake my fever-induced headache away. Pulled in. I am inhaling it, with my head half in and half outside the bedroom window. Rain sounds different when they fall on galvanized iron roofs, than when they fall on empty concrete streets. And from the open window, I only see rooftops and hear the tin-can thumping of rain and the now and again distant rumbling of thunder. I thought maybe with all this atmosphere I keep writing about, I am better of as a poet, and not as the freelancer I am now. Deadlines almost always erupt in me as fever. And I have to open the window myself, just so I can breathe.