There's a dime in my right shoe
How it came to be under my second toe
I'll never know, but can probably guess;
It's Monday, and there's no telling
ever, what odd maifestations come to be
when it rains in the desert.
My old leather
my new sneakers
with the dime bouncing and sliding
and I'm out the dorr; visions of debit
and the electric bill paid;
the sky is full of electricity
swirling like the puddles around and into
my new sneakers - cold, in the desert
wet, in the desert
and the Counting Crows sing their songs of rain
into my damp ears.
Two blocks and I am streaming water
that tastes like the tears coming
into my ears from digiized ache
and I'm threading through rivulets
and pools and the cars are now boats
creating wakes that fall just short
fof my legs.
Two more blocks - the sky is myriad grey;
the pavement is black and rainbow-hued;
I look up street, up the mountain,
the rain is solid, yet thin;
a scrim that makes me wonder of Dover;
does the mist there look like this,
sometimes, even a little?
Past the sodden park, past the lake that once
was a rodeo field; across canals, once streets;
the water flows shallow, determined to create
some illusion of Venice in the desert;
som play of light and shadow and wet elsewhere;
"Mr. Jones and me, staring into the future..."
The parking lot of the bank is thick with empty wet
It's a holiday, you dope - six blocks of
streaming, music-infused trudge and I shrug at
the illusion of Comumbus' great discovery -
just another particle washed away by the rain;
and I think of worthlessness, and smile
because I have six blocks to go.
Back down the hill, back through the rivers
that are never the same, swirling water;
patterense of uncaring change and erosion;
drops of water touching me, taking an atom here
dropping off some isotope there- finding it's path
as I find mine; a somnolent roll of thunder, more
a sigh than a cough or - "...and kindness falls like rain..."
The rest of this walk is silent inside, I'm singing now, at the top of my lungs - streaming tears that taste like rain; footsteps flowing along the course that takes me back to this home, but not the same one I left - I have stepped sideways, into a new current, into a universe next door; the dime sticks to the sole of my foot.
The traffic flows by; lights on, wipers flap to the beat in my ears, to the beat of my heart, to the rythm of my steps, to the cadence of water drops pounding out their coded message on my soaked scalp. I see, in my minds eye, puzzled faces in the SUVs, sealed and intrepid, plowing their way through this symphony unheard; I pity their comfort today - I smile, and I wave at them - come out, the water is fine!
I am in no hurry to walk in my front door; to smell the Champa and Bergamot; to drink the strong black coffee; to warm and dry away this shower of serenity, but I have discovered the resons for rain; for a moment I am the Rain King, and the lesson can be released and passed on the next heir apparent. And now, I type in rythm to the drip and swoosh of cars and rain going by, I'll take the dime from my shoe, and put it away somewhere safe; today, it has earned it's place.
