If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
I want you to put your umbrella away.
And it’s going to be hard, but
promise me
you won’t reach for whatever asinine magazine
or newspaper is at your disposal and cover your head.

If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
I want you to stop hurrying your body to shelter.
And it’s going to be hard, but
promise me
you won’t cross the street and run
over to the deli with the green awning.

If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
I want you to laugh.
I want you to laugh and when you laugh,
I want you to spread your mouth so wide
you catch great lakes upon your tongue.

I want you to step in puddles.
I want you to submerge your poor, helpless
little feet in water so much
you’ll want to call me up and tell me
congratulations
I’ve given you pneumonia.

If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
I want you to stop worrying
if your bag is getting wet—
and instead start worrying
if your mind is getting dry.

I want you to ask yourself
if your passions have been swept away
the same way the leaves are being whipped
up and away
in spirals of wind and water.

I want you to start worrying
about the last time you tilted your head
up to the sky with unadulterated peace
and caught droplets in your teeth and
your eyelashes and your irises
without panicking that it will ruin your makeup.

If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
and there is no bitter wind throwing
spears of icy water at your face,
pasting cold all over your cheeks
and tearing with tapered teeth
into your skin until its raw,
you’re lucky.
And if there is—not so much.
But you should know by now that life
doesn’t get a kick out of being easy
so get cozy
because you’re staying out there.

If you’re ever standing in the rain
on a Thursday,
I want you to forget about all the somewheres
you have to be tomorrow
and instead remember that—
this
here
standing in the rain
on a Thursday—
this is somewhere to be today.