"...and the freeways are a mess, and the mudslides blocking PCH in Malibu aren't making things better. With more rain in the forecast, here's something to add to the day - from L.A.'s oldies station, K-Earth, 101..."

The music flows as a spring from the radio.

"Listen to the rhythm of the fallin' rain Tellin' me just what a fool I been I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain And let me be alone again..."

In London the rain washed over Trafalgar Square like a cellophane mist, coating Nelson's column white and clean, scattering the pigeons from the cobblestones, while we, huddled in our khaki trenchcoats, your gloved hand in the bend of my elbow, we walked fast past the theatres and cafes and pubs, their windows silently weeping, while I said, "Christ Almighty, Sarah, don't you people have sunshine in this goddamn country?" and your green eyes flashed as lightning up at me, you smiled, and your cut-crystal voice said, "No, Christopher, dahling, that's another thing we gave up to you bloody Yanks!"

"The only girl I care about is gone away Lookin' for a brand new start But little did she know that when she left that day Along with her she took my heart..."

In Venice much later, we sat at a table in the empty cafe as the rain speared the plaza around the corner from the train station, and the rain dappled the canals, the breeze gently rocking the deserted gondolas, and you raised your wine glass, huge black eyes rising over the rim, after I said, "Carmina, you could go if you wanted to," and you sighed and said, "Crease-to-fer, you know, we said, we would see how long thees would last, you know. I can not go to Paris weeth you."

"Rain, please tell me now does that seem fair That she should steal my heart away when she don't care I can't love another when my heart's somewhere far away..."

In New York much later, we sat beside each other in front of the fire in the White Horse tavern (where you'd never been, despite growing up in the Bronx), and we watched the rain dart like arrows off the thick square-paned windows, the neon signs outside running like water colors, and you lifted your hand from your wine glass, laced your fingers through mine, laid your head on my shoulder and sighed, "This feels so right," and I touched your hair and thought, yes, and maybe this time's for keeps.

"Rain, please tell her that I love her so Send a little sun to set her heart aglow, Rain in her heart and let the love we knew start to grow..."

Now, alone in Los Angeles, the rain seldom visits, but when it does, like this morning, I sit back and listen to it scamper across the roof, bounce off the streets. And remember.

"Listen to the rhythm of the fallin' rain Tellin' me just what a fool I been I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain And let me be alone again..."