Storm

We take turns wading into the storm.

I stand under scaffolding on 76th street
Waiting for a break in the rain,
Waiting for my turn to step out
Into the wet street,
Submerge my feet in the small
Rushing river at the curb,
Where asphalt meets concrete
Where gutter drains overflow and
Broken umbrellas rest,
Sodden and forgotten.

There is a woman running in
Bright red heels and a jogger
Oblivious to the downpour.
A man smoking a cigarette next to me,
Observing, as I am, the city, the torrent,
The streams in the cracks in the sidewalk.

I am watching the crowds but
I don't see their faces.
I am thinking of you,
Thinking of glaciers and mountains
Birds and bicycles
Your hand in mine while we drive,
Your voice and your eyes.

I am thinking that one month from today
I will see you again.
I will leave the city and escape,
The rain will fade into the background,
The only sound, the only presence,
The two of us.

I am ready to plunge into the storm,
Ready to run in my open-toed shoes
Slipping and sliding, skin on leather
But I really want to run to you.

We take our turns in the silence
And it doesn't matter,
City or country, trees or smokestacks,
We are the same -
Waiting to step off an edge,
To dive head-first
To break the suspense and fall
Fall into openness, the unknown
Fall into each other while the clouds
Color the sky black
The moon overtakes us and shines its white light
Illuminates us, breaks us open
Joins us
Until we are one.

-GSS 2009