Looking for Me

The rain does not seem to wash away my thoughts

Like it usually does

It only dampens them

Soaks them through

Saturates their contents until the words no longer make sense.


One by one

they leave

Slugging on their backpacks

And pulling their hoods over their heads

I look up from my book every time a new set of wheels sizzles on the wet pavement

But it is never for me.

The drops of water drip from my hair to the book in my lap

Tap, tap, tap

But the printed ink does not run.

The atmosphere is dense, and heavy

And the dark clouds wrap the world in a cocoon.

All sounds are muffled,

As if I am sinking below the surface of a lake;

But my limbs cannot move through the sluggish water.

Soon the last person leaves of his own accord

The wheels of his bicycle singing along with the black asphalt

Until even his small green basket attached to the rear of his bike,

 disappears into the thick fog.

I wait,

For hours it seems

But no one appears

Looking for me.