Harold Weathervein

Harold walks down any street of this town

both crier and witness the sun drops clouds shift

his legs twitch

the clocks chime on cafes, pharmacies, and dime stores, in bar rooms he stils all alone erupting.

in his head its like the weather

back and forth its like the weather

when it rains it pours down

Weatherman, do you feel?

Is it stormy inside of your veins?