You watch the rain and wind
Make spotty waves against the concrete.
The sky is resolved to sunder.
Trapped in dark thoughts
Your momentum a broad stalemate
Between self and self.
Above, the gray thunders,
An aching crease in the heavens.
Portents are all your own,
You choose to see what you see in tea leaves,
Just as you make the words
On a Ouija board.