by Shane Gray

Created on: November 25, 2009   Last Updated: January 29, 2010

I sit entranced on my porch,
watching the sheets of rain blow across the wind swept summer streets
It seems as though the rain has been falling for 30 years

I find my eye drawn to the little boy in the puddle jumpers
Arms out stretched, face turned up toward the sky
stomping through the rain with fire in his eyes

All alone

Why do the lonely ones always play in puddles?

Because rain drops hide the tears
Am I seeing him or remembering me?
He is red rain boots, a yellow slicker, and a funny looking hat
He is/ I was/ we are every child who’s mother made him dress sensibly

Instead of cool

I close my eyes, and think back
Once again I am red rain boots, a yellow slicker,
a funny looking hat

Once again I am sensible, prophylactic,
A walking, breathing pocket protector 

Thoughts of an infantile manner skip and bounce
like marbles shot across the sidewalk of my mind
Memories are drawn in chalk on the pavement
Faded, smeared and fuzzy, yet still there

Friendship stats printed on the back of old baseball cards
Zero friends scored, zero girlfriends, zero assists
Zero is the natural number of the lonely loser

Another casualty of red rain boots

4 square with only one person
Time in detention halls
Beaten into the concrete by four older boys
Lunch on the library steps

Can one ever measure the damage that has been done by a yellow slicker?

Standing in the rain, arms outstretched,
face turned up toward the sky,
Stomping through the puddles with fire in my eye

All alone

I can’t find my red rain boots, my yellow slicker
Where is my funny hat?

I sit on the porch now,
where the raindrops can’t hide the tears
I continue to watch the rain
It seems as though the rain has been falling for 30 years

Sitting in my chair, trying not to cry
Remembering the days
When there was fire in my eye

Still alone

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