Raindrops on the Windshield

I’ve always admired those artists,
those poets, those authors,
those painters and performers,
who suffer for their art.

I like to do this thing
where I pretend
that my surroundings are a metaphor
for my experiences.

This led me to a time
where I parked my car in my building’s lot
and just sat in the driver’s seat
for an hour
watching the glimmering raindrops lash at the windshield
and slowly glide down the glass
as the tempestuous gales
howled around me,

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