instructions on not giving up

the water from this storm pools in the streets
all those places the concrete
the asphalt
sinks and sags, so many cars
so many feet

the drops are so fat your shoulders
are up by your ears
protecting your neck
(you forgot your favorite
red and grey scarf
that usually keeps the shaved back of your head
protected)

you forgot other things too

like the lust in your eyes
like snapping your gaze to attention
when you see their ass
in those jeans
like the way fussili
with fresh garlic and white sauce
should not be expected
even once more
like the way peach juice drips
down their chin
like the bloom and blush
of their lust

the water runs in the sluice between street
and sidewalk
the wet sycamore, maple, ginkgo, gum tree leaves
mash together into that color of brown
that paint turns
when all the colors combine
and they block the storm drain

no movement
no release
just pooling

but you have boots

they’re even waterproof

you can drag your toe
through the muck
until the barrack of leaves bursts
the water flows brown,
flows clear