Friday, May 20, 2016

Pluviophile


Mild surprise. In eyes not used to seeing me leave office this early. It's only late evening. But I am compelled.
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Beyond the air-conditioned sterility and the glass walls. Down to the basement, down to the beast. There it is. Black and orange with Metzelers for shoes.
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Grumbling up the concrete, out into the world, out into the wind. The first drop hits my neck. Cold, steady and sure, a wake-up call tracing its way down my spine.
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Fumbling around in my back pocket. Need to find that token, get out the gate. The security folks won't accept anything else. Found it. License to slink away then, responsibilities in my rear view mirrors.
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Rain washed streets glint under the streetlights. In a special personal sort of way. Puddles line up on the road edges - speed sucking swamps awaiting their next victim. 
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So I follow the Buddha, hold the middle path. A couple of twists of the throttle later, vanish into nirvana.
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