Umbrella

I like your eyes,
she said so
simply, and he laughed and
opened his umbrella.

It was filled with
holes because it
always rains in
Seattle; an acidic rain that
leaves its mark without
even trying or
caring.

Don't you get wet? she
asked.
He shook his head.
It's like lightning, he
told her, it never strikes
the same place and
I'm a lucky boy.
But this umbrella? It's not
so lucky.

He tossed it aside with a
smirk on his face.

Have you ever been
to New York
City? The buildings
are so
close and so tall they
should stop the rain,
she spoke quietly.

Yeah, he
said, I probably wouldn't
need my
umbrella.

He went around to
fountains and
storm drains to find
quarters to pay for the bus
fare to get
across the country.

She had a straw hat; it
didn't hide the
rain but it hid her
face and that was
good enough.