Was pay for his ride home.
He always came on his own,
winding through serpent freeways
to see me; I never even asked him.
Like a salmon swimming up stream,
so did he.
Sometimes I really enjoyed his company --
like having a storm ravage a 90-day streak of sunshine --
good once in a while,
not daily, though.
Once, however, it annoyed me.
I was enjoying the routines of my weekdays --
in and out of the office --
and my weekends --
sitting home with a movie.
He came, and I was angry.
I paid for his bus ride home.
And as the steel slowly pulled
out of the station,
his rain-like quality seemed to disappear,
and it was made more like the sparkles flickered on by sunshine.
