Wet Walk

This is a short free verse poem in which I recycled another poet’s line, as an exercise. See if you can guess which one is the borrowed one!

On one of those rainy days, when the sun seemed so far away
Under the spatter and
drip
of the then,
You told me you did not want my umbrella.
You were perfectly content to let the
sky
Fall on your head,
And somehow the world seemed suddenly
To make sense that way.
So I put away the sound of the gibberish that the rain
Was typewriting on my umbrella,
And talked to you like a normal human being.
We were wet, us two walking in the afternoon grey,
While the umbrella’s steel tip clicked patiently along,
Metronoming with its tick
Our quiet concerto of talk, and laughter,
The grey and agreeable silence.
I still think you’re strange.

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