The man in the window of the rain is more a character than a man. He is more a cartoon than a character. The rain does drop like acorns tonight. I slink into bed like a fox. Hear me in my funny state. The boxed holes in the screen of my window are infinitesimal, there are millions of them, like stars in the sky. I like to squint through one and go down the row of them. This is how I rock myself to bed at night, by staring doe-eyed at the holes, un-blinking.

The world outside is...