Driving through town
windscreen wipers on full pelt
hardly keeping up with the pouring rain.
Loud swing music in my car.
“I don’t care what the weatherman says,
when the weatherman says it’s raining,
you’ll never hear me complaining,
I’m sure the sun will shine.”
The traffic lights multiply a myriad times in the wet road
sparkling like Christmas tree lights.
My concentration is keen
to see clearly
to stop when I must stop
and go when I must go,
but to avoid those without cars
rushing across the road,
clasping soggy newspaper
in a futile attempt to cover their heads,
blinkering themselves inadvertently to the oncoming traffic.
Maybe they care what the weatherman says more than I do.