There's something so
delicious
about getting caught
in a summer storm,
the chilled water droplets
penetrating the outer layers
of clothing,
soaking the overheated body
with unexpected
refreshment.

I heard all the squeals
and screams,
cries toward the sky
to close its open mouth,
to stop spitting down
on them
as they ran,
ducking cars,
looking for a rooftop
makeshift
umbrella.

I chortled
not so discreetly,
extending my arms
side to side
to catch the droplets
on my bare skin.

The rain felt so ****
as it slid down
my forehead,
slipping
slowly
across my lips,
sneaking down below,
into the crew cut
of my shirt.

Two blocks away from home,
most of the runners had run by,
the rest huddling below
the entrance to various shops
and bars,
I walked by, paying the stares no mind,
sporting a purported
half-crazed look,
while I truly exuded
exuberance,
ebullience,
liveliness.

The pouring
turned to
pittering, pattering,
gentle kisses from the
beads,
letting up just as I
approached my door,
like the universe knew,
and it let me
dance home
in the rain
before the sky shut its
wide-toothed grin,
and the storm was gone.