I cry a lot. Sometimes from the loneliness, sometimes I don’t know why. Sometimes I can still smell the smoke over Hanoi. And then, a few dozen times a year, I’ll receive a gift. The sky will glower, and the clouds will hide the sun, and the rain will begin to fall. And I’ll remember. — I met you in the rain on the last day of 1972 - m4w Craigslist poetry October 06, 2015 by Ciara O'Rourke I'm suspending my suspicion that m4w is an aspiring or professional writer and this is a gimmick and I'm just going to believe in the romance of this Missed Connection.