Tag Archives: wet

Popcorn Stare

I could have looked away.

But it would still have happened.

He had mistimed his suited, leather brogue-d jog.

Quite badly.

The swelling gutter puddle had

trouble on its mind.

Buses are faster these days.

I think that’s what threw him off.

The speed.

He drew level with the black water.

Jogging, hesitating, now sprinting.

The bus arrived on time.

The soaking could not have been more.

Almost as if he wanted it.

If he had, he could not have timed it better.

Even his hat was wet.


He stopped sprinting.

Stood still.

Turned and looked at the big red bus now long gone.

He held his hands out to the side.

Looked down at himself.


A look to the sky.

A religious man, I thought.

Perhaps, no longer.

Maybe that soaking was the last straw.

That shattered his faith.

God hates me, he thought.

I couldn’t be wetter and now

I don’t even have God.

I felt bad that part of me

enjoyed his dilemma.

If he had avoided the soaking would

he still be happy with God?

Was he ever?

Was this all that was ever standing inbetween

this man and his faith in the almighty?

A large puddle and a bus?

A drenched suit and hat?

Perhaps he was just cursing the rain clouds?

This is a good place to sit, I thought.

I’ll get another pint.







So naïve?

What? To see humour

in a cat’s eyes?

Or nonchalance in the

swaying of a leafy branch?

Of course she wants me.

The pavement gently

caught me as I

stumbled and fell.

I own her.

Not for forever.

Just for now.

The pavement told me

with its gentle caress.

Its cold embrace

soothed my doubt.


The drink in my veins

screamed its protest

at the accusation.

A warmth enveloped my jeans.

I welcomed it.

My legs were wet as I stood

and eye-balled the moon.

Its wink reassured me.

Fucking naïve…

Of course she wants me.