Rain


I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the brain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can’t do a handstand–
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy things I just said–
I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.

Shel Silverstein,
Where the Sidewalk Ends,
1974

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