In the Clear Age of Water

In the Clear Age of Water

The work of this day consists

in carrying a bag laden with rain

from here to there.

Once done, it's lift the bag 
with our tired eyes,

bury it in the lake of indifference

where sad conversations rot.

Let’s stamp life with graffiti.

After all, we are just the so-and-so's,

the whatshisname's,

the Tom Dick or Harry's of life

and rain is nothing more

than corrected, repetitive poetry,

a new pair of shoes

wanting to be so joyful

happiness tires

and refuses to do any overtime.