Plausibility of Downpour

Just when we think
we’ve finished with the rain.

Just when we think
the rain has finished with us.

We’ll look outside and the world
will be glistening.

Wet falling on wet
tires plunging
through roads turned to mirror.

Just as we’re about to believe it,
in the plausibility of sudden downpour,
that so much can cascade
unilluminated by our eyes
when we’re looking somewhere else
into the depths of our coffees
(dry becoming wet while we’re shrugging
in our memories),
it is gone.

The storm has rushed off
and we’re still sitting with ourselves.

It is gone, and we’ve been changed without permission.
The feeling of the day altered without consent.

As if some invisible hand had reached
inside of us and fiddled
with our knobs
on the prompting
of some unintelligible whimsy.

We’re suspicious
and it’s raining in our memories.

We carry around showers
even after the skies have cleared.