it came while i wasn’t looking
fat raindrops, insoucient
rude
shattering on the concrete
they make the house look freshly washed
inside and out it’s clean
because it has to be
slow driving cars pass
women with large hair 
stare as though passing a crime scene
wondering
could we make it work?
the agitation of selling a home
the agitation of a new neighbor
rolling by, neck craned
every time he leaves
wondering
exactly what is going on in there?
mind your business, sir
but i will tell you 
i spend my time 
eating cheese from saran wrap
ordering patio sets online
i am waiting for a day 
when i can sit under an umbrella
in peace
and then let the rain pelt
my scotchguarded fabric
i will eat my charcuterie 
under a tacky umbrella, glad
and none of you are invited.