The transformation of is to was — like an overcast
morning, the inevitability of sunshine and the
possibility of rain are not equal, there are all kinds
of ways to foretell all kinds of things — yet, an
umbrella bears consideration. Some things just are.
Like seeing you now across the street and not
stopping, not slowing down, not wondering where
you’re going, not remembering an hour later, all
the times it rained and words got wet — some words
that were quiet, cold, running down heated skin,
some warm, dissolving in light tapered on window
sills — not thinking at night that some things should
not be together, like sunshine and morning rain:
rainbows too are surely errors of judgement.