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.