Walking down Juanita Drive
On the wide shoulder
Littered with empty juice pouches
And soggy dead pine needles
Its raining
Not pouring
Just regular late March raining
Enough to need an umbrella
But not enough to keep the die hards inside
I'm on the wrong side of the road
The left side
But I like to look into the windshields
Of the passing cars
As the zoom by
The drivers stare at me
From the comfort of their cushy heated seats
No doubt wondering why anyone
Would want to walk around in this weather
Assuming I'm up to no good
I meet their incredulous eyes
With a firm jaw
A half lit cigarette hanging from it
Wet red hair flopping limply around my shoulders
Hands shoved indignantly in my pockets
Sometimes I just want to don my leather jacket
And freeze my a** off