There is a paradigm shift.
40, like thunder reminds you that
Your body doesn’t rain as much.
Climate change you call it,
When you’re just an arid earth
On which nothing grows, bigger
Taller, fatter, even curvier,
When the man holds a basin
Out to catch the rain water,
The drizzle of the monsoon
That becomes just like a surprise
Or an epiphany, a rare event
Of simply holding the body out
Praying for a forecast of rain,
Not to open the flood gates,
Just to let a seed of memory germinate,
To remind the barren earth,
Of two long decades of pummeling rain
That at best, took me often to La La land
Singing Do Ra Me Fa Sol La Ti
And once again, Do.