slippery

i only see her when it rains,

and the sidewalk is slippery.

she is slightly tilted.

her collapsed soul

hanging like a hand-me-down purse from her shoulder.

she seems less than life-size, somehow.

i like to make up stories about her past.

sad tales on how she got to where she is.

i don't know,

she could be happy on other days.

perhaps she (like me) just hate the rain,

and maybe she sees me the same way i see her.

but she never see me when it rains,

and the sidewalk is slippery.

she ruins my day every time.