it is raining within the city expanse

and my friend is in the back seat of the pedicab
and i am huddled besides the driver seat, my knee recieving raindrops
and it is flying between an alley
and a highway

and when we stopped on the red light
it rested on a street sign

its wings were yellowed
not the yellow bestowed by loving creation
the yellow of light and flowers that serve

but the yellow i know
of homeless men's hopeless teeth
and street side gravy noodles

of rusted flying pigeon bikes
and industrial waste flowing from millionaire castles

of sunsets in this city
this veiled in a day's smog
or its century's smog

you are not hopeless gravy, however
you are a butterfly

how my legs dared to jump off the vehicle
how my arms wanted to reach up
how my hands wanted to clasp you gently within a chamber
of my spindly fingers

how i could only stare and wonder
within this pedicab
within the center lane

could i clean you off this city's mess
could i perhaps, knowing you were not born stained
but born pure
but born loved, lovingly, by creation
how i accuse the world and it's homeless millionaires
of tampering with purity

i knew i wanted, and it made it seem i could
to stop the world
and clasp you gently
to get you to the nearest wellness

and i hope i did
for it was only what i could
hope that the rain would be gentle on you
dear butterfly

this rain calms me
i hope it would be enough for you
it is not for me
i am stained, but my wings are not
as pure as yours

if my friend the rain is not enough
know, i will jump off this pedicab still
to help you
fly

away from this city