Dancing In The Rain

a sudden shower
when you want to dance
means the gods
don’t like you. do not
listen to the optimists
who will say the glass
is half-full. so what —
every glass
is going to be emptied
over you and you will be
cold and wet. even if
you happen to be nude
and are dancing and skipping
between the raindrops
you’re going to get drenched.
you are a damn fool
to believe in any of
that old-time crap about
the gods waiting to delight
in you. the gods
don’t care, not one iota.
the gods are for the gods.
you need to be for yourself.
the gods are serenely unconcerned
with you and your whims and
your big importance. you are
out here, dancing naked
in the last rain of summer,
smiling at the neighbors,
unshocked when they close
the windows and say it’s
not for them. what do you care
if the gods and the neighbors
have turned away — you’re
still dancing — toss a pirouette
at them now, fling your right leg
up behind you now, fall down
in hysterics now — screw the gods
and the neighbors. dance
like they’re all watching. dance
like it’s the last time you’ll do it,
ever. they all will sigh and turn
away, shaking their heads.
you keep on doing you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T