Riding Again

I'm riding again, in the rain

I'm riding again, as one knee abandons protective arrogance

and the other, competitive repentance

now they are merely sibling huskies

climbing the hill in the rain

In the rain, pupils swat away the eyelids

to greet the kiss of phantasmic boreal shelter

to taste fresh kelp and salmon from another time zone

and grant patience to the rush-hour haste and neurosis of

windshield-wipers

ring the bell for the man with the umbrella

serve notice: I have delivered red roses to the graveyard

of three-dollar chinatown umbrellas

but you can get those from a tuxedoed layoff survivor

in any uptown bar

I'm riding again, wearing what I came with

what I wore to carry pockets full of solutions

covering the formality I wore to greet the sun

my pants are all wet, and I can't wait to take them off

but that's something we just don't say anymore

while the eyes watch, the knees creak

and all anyone notices is whether you noticed