One Single Impression: Spectacle

I make a spectacle of myself
In the rain.

The neighbors tell me so
Whenever they see me
And they feel like saying something.

"You're the woman who walks
In the pouring rain,"
They say to me
Even if rain hasn't fallen for weeks.

"You walk in the rain. All the time."

As if I didn't know, they tell me
And they smile that smile.

"That's me," I say. "That's me you see."

They never ask why
And I never tell them
Why
I walk in the pouring rain.

I will tell you, though:

I like the cool sting of the water
As it penetrates my clothes
And soaks me through.

I feel invisible and light and miles away then.

And I like the taste
Of rain that finds its way
To my mouth as it slides down my face.
The taste is sweet.

Their smiles tell me I have nothing to say.
They are right.
There is no explaining
The complete joy
Of being overwhelmed

By something so beautiful
And so very ordinary
As a down pour.

One Single Impression