View Out the Window

There's some rain that might
be mistaken for oil, the way it
looks over the street, a shiny
black coat. Then the cars
and how each one represents a human
going someplace other than here.
People walking. I see a woman
in bright yellow rain boots
up to her knees. A man with a red
scarf, probably wet, no umbrella.
The whoosh and thrust of a breathing
city. When I get out of town
and look at it from afar and think
here I am in all that. Well.