Steel rain woman

A tattooed biker drops casual f-bombs  
from a second story balcony.
They hit the blacktop hard  
and cut through the courtyard
set to the frantic beat of a car alarm.
 
Morning birds harmonize
with the street lights  
that buzz to life like captive suns.
From Juliette's repose, I take a long,  
slow pull on my last cigarette.
 
I can hear the trees swaying,
soothing my erratic thoughts
as the wind plays pianissimo perfection
along their xylophone needles,
but these trees are strangers to me.
 
I wonder if they, too
ache to touch the heavens,
those twisted branches desperately reaching,
heavy with broken promises.
I tap a barefoot beat...
 
The rush of the freeway hits my ear like steel rain
and I have known the rain too long.