Poetry

The Rain on Canal

The rain on Canal is putting me in a chokehold
It makes the cabs look like beams of light
I lost my umbrella again somewhere on 16th and 9th
The icy cold rain pounding on me
My black dress dragging heavier with each step
I shiver and walk past the men of the ivory coast
They open their mouths to speak but all I see is fog
No Rolexes, no Guccis, Chanels or Pradas today
I’m free to pass
I walk past the art store that I used to love
The one with columns of acrylic paint and a creaky staircase
I walk past all the tourists soaking in their skinny flip flops
Confused about what to do in the rain
I walk past the Chinese ladies with their fanny packs
Grateful for the break from the rain
I hop in the train station
Unsure about what I’m looking for either
Maybe to feel a little bit more alive

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