Summer Rain

Summer rain
falls on Matthew Modine
walking in the park

Troublesome behaviour
unwise choices
and a bad agent have
led him here
following hoof prints
that seem left
planted in the soil
for him to follow
deep into the woods

He climbs a pine tree
and sits perched
as if nesting
between two branches in
the middle of
the coarse needles
that jut out like hundreds
of chubby fingers

He stares at the setting
sun that once
seemed so near
but now appears
like the hungover memory
of a night before
hazy and distant and
unattainable

He lights a cigarette
and hangs upside down
resting his head on
a wavering bed of pine
that lightly pokes
presses and
caresses

(it may have looked
funny if you saw
it
but if you dug
deeper in the soil
you'd know
the truth)

The last of his dreams
have been washed away
by the summer rain.