Around Me

The rain comes and goes; it is never entirely absent, never entirely out of view. Bodies, skin tones, hair colors and cuts of cloth you recognize from forever envelope you. Are you one and the same?

The bus cuts through downtown on a quiet Monday night and all is quiet (it's always quiet), the rain doesn't bother anyone but me. I went to check on you and you are well; I'm glad. There's an ease in your step I'm grateful to see. I like to think there's one in mine, too, but I can't be sure.

It's so hard to know who you are when the world around you would rather say what it wishes you could be.