don’t miss the bus

He wore black. I thought he was a girl. But he wore black. And I found him not to much notice me, though I noticed him. Perhaps he was a paper man and the wind would blow him away from the very ground he stood on. And what of Rain? Would he melt into a little wad of nothing if the rain came and he were perchance walking down the street or waiting for the bus? Too bad if he saw the bus down the street and then the rain came and he could have been saved if only he had had the courtesy to phone the rain and ask her if she would please be so kind as to wait another moment until he had the chance to tuck himself safely among the chairs and people on the bus, though I suspect the rain would not have listened, nor, in fact, even heard, for who has ever really heard of rain having ears?