It is 3 AM when the false monsoon hits and
for all her howling and roaring there is not a drop to drink
Greasewood woman comes out to the porch on coyote feet
(for all fugitives have coyote feet)
and looks up at the sky and says
Well that’s new. never had to beat out a cyclone before.

I let out a startled laugh and
she makes a face, bunched up in her coyote habit
Together in the wet oven of the porch she says
Not funny. This happened once to my pops back in 1858
people lost their homes you insensitive prick
Before I can look sorry she steps onto the railing and jumps and
laughs the whole way down with her coyote laugh
(for all fugitives have coyote laughs)

I’m pulling your leg she says
You have to laugh for the rain to come
they call it “sympathetic magic”
I ask her is that why they make it rain in the sad scenes in movies and she says well
sometimes you have to take more drastic measures
don’t you remember Willy Shakes. tragedy is comedy

I try to remember but all the Shakespeare I read was over her shoulder
her rangy coyote shoulders (for all fugitives have coyote shoulders)
and I was spending more time looking at those than listening to her read to me.

Instead I ask why does the rain never come when you call it?
why does it answer when you don’t ask for it?
she looks up from the burning asphalt and
Greasewood woman, Creosote woman
eyes and hair the color of pitch
looks small and blue in the morning dew

well I’m not the only one calling
she says
Why don’t you ask our mutual friend the Pastor.
I say
no I’m not asking about god I’m asking about rain
And she says
woman those are the same thing
And I say
no they are not. god is supposed to come when called
Faithful and loving like a sheep dog to her flock
Rain is faithful and loving too but she only comes when it’s her season

And she asks
then why didn’t god come when the Pastor called for her?
And I say
don’t dodge the question Diaz.
that’s between him and god and I’m asking you about the rain

And she screws up her coyote eyes
(for all fugitives have coyote eyes)
And she says
Well sometimes you can love someone but you can’t be with them
because you’ll hurt them or because you need the money or because your heart is somewhere else
so you have to be away from each other most of the time. I think this is like that.

And I say
but sometimes it does listen to you.

No it doesn’t she says
Not the monsoon. not the winter rains.
That kind of rain never comes when I call it

And I ask
Then what does?

She thinks about that.
El Niño. tropical storms. rain that shouldn’t be here.

In the belly of the black sky in her black habit and black eyes
Greasewood woman turns away
Something occurs to her and she looks like she wants to say it but she doesn’t
I think I got it generally

Who else comes faithfully when called, causes problems, and then vanishes?
All rain has its season but coyote rain.