Harold Weathervein — Cursive

Harold walks down any street of this town

Both crier & 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.

Inhisbeaditsliketheweatherback&forthitsliketheweather

When it rains it pours down

Weatherman, do you feel?

Is it stormy inside of your veins?