If the rain

If the rain works away our concrete
and steel, to reach and feel
original stone and earth

If it wears away the metal
rings and brick boxes around street trees
so greenfleshed lives can sway, scented,
in their shelter

If it knocks out the electric
lines and stops
our train, traps
it for vines and mudwalls

If it slops the style
out of our hair and the makeup
off our faces, hoses off
our lowrise jeans and highrise boots,
our ghoulgear and bling,
our multitoned helpnessness and hope

If it grows on our backs
fur and homespun and moss