Strangers in the Rain
We were stranded under that corrugated tin sheet
As strands of clear water hung down carelessly
From its edge. The wind loped by washing us
With icy splinters that fed on us ravenously.
The regal looking woman, clucked her polished
Tongue and eyed us disdainfully, standing a little more straight
She rolled out an incoherent word or two, staring at
The curtain that grew more impregnable by the minute.
The tramp in his tatters, was back to his home for the night
He lit a cigarette, whistling tunelessly, shuddering
Slightly. He missed the luxury of solitude, his home had
Been invaded by the beautifully eerie pouring.
The nervous novice corporate, clutched at his belongings
Flashed at me a stoic smile, as if saying that he was late
For dinner. The scent of his cologne mingled with the
Perfume, fresh from the rain and stale from the cigarette.
The little girl was crouched at the corner, afraid and agitated;
She'd lost her paper boats and run away from home.
The stocky mackerel cat sat curled up on the driest inches he'd
Found, purring confidently and wanting to be left alone.
I was the timid ghost of a girl, hovering in between.
Not a word was exchanged between us, spoken or
Unspoken, that night our lives intersected
Under that flimsy roof. But the sinister symphony that hurtled down
From the sky, said all that there was to be said.
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