maelstrom, male storm, hurricane and gone…

maelstrom, male storm, hurricane and gone…

oh your ennui, henri
the plain rain of henri, you would think a french sounding fellow would have a bit more flourish, no, just a wet blanket really, no howling or even soft blowing winds for that matter, just straight up and down rain, what a pity for a hurricane, once downgraded to a tropical storm, no more, just a collection of clouds with a core, a big messy spigot floating over central park, poor barry manilow, at least he got to start, I can only imagine the mass of rats running relays in subway tunnels, backstroke? I suppose there is a rat stroke, although I hope not see it in person, leave those olympics to the feline persuasion (hopefully hunting the things out to extinction – although I know better), maybe pizza rat will make a pizza raft, quite the tik-tok that would make, fivel would have nothing on that take, or even nimh for that matter, I can only imagine what might lurk in the flood waters of the city, perhaps like that scene in star wars, as I imagine the contents of a garbage compactor are much the same as a city street swept by water into pools of filth, so I suppose henri, after all, had some teeth, gummy-drooling wet ones gnawing and swirling at ankles and feet, I shudder to think… thank goodness for the suburbs…