The neighborhood is lining up again The local food bazaar filled to the brim The sky, a grey light drizzle but quite calm Pedestrians stream home before the storm I'm a dot A particle, free I'm waiting for the surge from the sea The wind picks up And brushes down the track Each raindrop, a pinprick on my back And so i stop by brother mark's To stay the night with friends I pour 4 whiskeys on the rocks He cooks beneath the dimly lit kitchen clock All the while we talk of hurricanes Back in houston then - canoeing in the rain Laura drops Her finger in the sauce She says it's good for all of us to eat So we stop Enough to hear the knock Swaying branches and raindrops in sheets Tapping on the top Wrapping us in breeze The night i spend sleeping on the floor In and out of sleep - a room with no door The tree outside projects a silhouette And bends back and fourth like a blade of grass I'm up So i walk down the hall I watch my friends sleeping sound And i stop long enough To spread my thoughts around I awake to the sound of breakfast bells So i guess that means the battery held We take a camera down on the street Among the limbs freshly cracked at our The air is clean The trains still at a halt The boarded up windows on the block Sit so serene The calming aftermath The entrails of the midnight bath And of course we're holding hands Or at least thinking like that