Rain Reign, Go Away
(For Logan Dyer)
There’s so much wetness—so much pain.
I feel I must somehow explain
The animus inside my brain.
The genesis is fairly plain:
See, baseball once was my domain,
And—oh!—how I would sore complain
When clouds rolled in, when came the rain.
I know it sounds a bit inane,
But when it fell on our terrain,
I felt betrayed—so inhumane
To ruin a perfectly good baseball game with a bunch of dumb water falling out of the sky and making the infield turn into a diamond of mud and then we have to postpone—or even cancel—the game and I have to go home and be bored until the next game, when it will probably stupid rain … again!
This Goldberg guy (yes, Rube’s his name)
Created things—discovered fame.
Devices crazy—so complex—
But with such humorous effects.
[Rube Goldberg = accomplishing by complex means what seemingly could be done simply; also: characterized by such complex means]
“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?”
Says Romeo, who’s soon to feel love’s aches. (2.2)