leaves

I wake up in the rain and it doesn't sound like stopping. It sounds like its gonna keep going for three days straight. I feel like staying in bed for three days, too. A contest of patience with the rain. My boss calls. I am already late for work. The rain will win, this time. "You've won this time, asshole" I tell the rain. Outside, there is an involuntary moat around my house. The autumn leaves have choked the drains. A rain-lake is trying to make me loss my job. Shouldn't have called it an asshole, crosses my mind. But I won't let it win. I will be like Carl Lewis and I will jump clear over you, rain puddle! How silly you'll look then. I run and jump, with perfect technique, planting my front foot only millimetres from the water's edge. I am flying and then I am landing. With a splash. "You win again, asshole!". My shoes and socks are soaked through. I am late for work. I can't go back and change, because I'll just have to jump again. My whole day will be coloured and damp and off from this. I will have to work late. The blockage is only going to get worse throughout the day. I'll have to jump harder and further when I get home. Some days, it feels like even the leaves hate you.