Walking in the Rain

I take comfort in the rain.  The slick sad streets.  How the earth  smells rough, unbathed, raw in its elements.  When it is raining, I tell myself, this is how life is most days:  a bit  inconvenient.

I like to walk in the rain when most people are tucked within doors.  The few souls  around me  moving  under their  own private umbrellas. The rain always gets us wet despite our best resolve to stay dry.  This walk into the night,  these droplets bouncing through our barriers.  The spheres splattering into a kiss with the ground.  I love the rain because it  makes life a bit more metaphorical, more deep.  The slippery streets,  the shuttered corners, the mute air.  The rain is proof that  life is uncontrollable, that we are not the masters, but mere pawns in this big bang universe.