Today, in a sudden
downpour, I run

through the parking lot.
My soaked shoes

and water-logged hems
dry out slowly

through the afternoon.
At my desk, I sit still

mostly. I think
of those who know

as if without a doubt,
those writing evidently

more important things
than I suspect I am

at this moment. I close
my eyes, remind myself:

once, I thought
I had no choice.


In response to Via Negativa: Senescence.

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