Sometimes

When it really comes down

and the streets shine black,

I sit in traffic and watch the droplets

Descend the windshield.

they distort the red light

that won’t turn green.

Sometimes I let the drops settle,

preferring to leave them alone

as I relax in my seat

while the winds pick up

and they crawl back

to the roof of the car.

Lights cut through

the watery sheet

on my windshield,

distorted.

And for this moment,

I’m separated from the street,

the cars, and the signs I think I see,

flashing.

My eyes are stuck

in this crawling watercolor,

melting with every mile.