It was raining for the first time since July.
Cigarettes lit, friends in the pit,
turned into Nietzsche, high on some smoking hot tea.
The drizzle doesn’t stop, and neither do those shops,
who are just the right answer to all those questions
that have begun to ask themselves in your tummy.
Anyway, time to leave.
Home isn’t far away, the chilly damp air has had its say,
its nature you’ve decided to brave, on foot back to the cave.
Those couple hundred yards,
stretched into thousands in your mind,
those rain drops hitting your face at just the right angles,
and in your head,
you’re already in the movie,
the spy at the end of the mission.
Movie ends and you’re home all wet,
dripping on the carpet.
Mom’s angry, mumbling something about catching a cold.
But you’ve spotted warm noodles in your sister’s bowl,
So who cares ?
Tugged in a blanket, stealing noodles,
watching some lame tv show.
That was a few years ago.
It’s raining again, for the first time since July.
I sit at a desk, those drops at the window,
taunting me, daring me,
to live.
