Saint Rain martyr weeping fit to flood and wash away every dusty, disused Samsara corner of the world. People rush by, bent awkward under umbrellas or curled tight into hoods in defiance of fine silver rain of winter echo footsteps, not cold yet, but cool and strong accompany wind to just forget the hectic morning and dig the day remains. Everybody hurrying ineffectual in rain, hurry for shrouded doors or parked cars, just vague shapes in the downpour. Everybody hurries but me, no hood or cover, just strolling, arms swinging in the half-mile hike back to side-street and car, and this gone chick on opposite sidewalk strolling, swaying really, long hair slick down from falling rain face, legs, wow!, enough to make any rainfall afternoon a better place.

A poet, he can fall in love in a second. We fall in love with love, which is beauty, not sweaty human secret lustful loving. What difference in sunset sunrise fire beauty or where girl hip and belly meet beauty? We worry too much about people thinking dry moral judgment. If beauty makes us happy who’s to tell us we’ve no right to be happy?

Hidden pothole jars a step, straining left foot ankle muscle, tendon, something. Even that fails to derail laughing rain walk, digging thunder overhead and behind of passing cars, stroll past a empty house where workers yak and laugh, a coffee dark voice raised in song, haunting sweetwater blues reminds me where I am, blues-city Memphis, tragic, elegant, decaying South for all the bright buildings and cat-cradle concrete streets.

Zang!

In breathing relief sigh escape of day, I remember day, not in grasping sensual clinging but in quiet meditation of walking in the rain. Night before, morning really, 3 a.m. no sleep, rise from tangled covers, quiet so as not to disturb the wife. Raise a window to breathe while the kettle starts to sing in dim-lit kitchen, then out shadowed door to stand in pre-rain swirling mystery, warm cup in hand, bitter green tea subtle sweet of jasmine flowers and honey.

Morning finds me sleepless, kitchen-haunting specter, eggs and butter instead of dreams, and nervous, nervous, nervous. Leave cotton-field county behind for red-brick city turns, the illusion of public parking and serene little side-street dead-end parking, a fair step from where I need to be. Good day for a walk, though, leaf shadow holy sidewalk stepping pilgrim me.

Pilgrim yes, questing for my grail; come to slay a dragon in my head, fear dragon worry of academic entry exams for soon to be burden of college life. I dig the campus in a moment of clarity, forgetting my tired worry at not being able to find the building I need and just watch and love the timeless chess piece buildings and the casual unworried passing faces, young faces, make me feel old, and I wonder if I (almost 27) am too old for here and this. Then I see two old student patriarch greybeard campus saints of books and studies and get over myself and go to find the place I need.

It is a grand old building, vaulted and shadowed, smell of floor polish and ancient dust, a library actually, I see, dim room lined with books. The deep room I need is all modern white tile and grey carpet, computer hummm forgetting the sigh sleeping splendor above. Testing room itself empty except for me and computer, but later comes the same fox-faced beauty I’ll see a stroll in rain opposite me later, destined to move away and never know.

My worries fold up like paper birds and fly away. Test done, result in hand and delivered. Just another part of the hoops and jumping for me to start along, building bridges with the ruins of before, I told them. Odd looks I get, walking alone; tall, big guy all in black, booted and in a black Chinese jacket buttoned with little monkey-fist knots, walking, strolling, hands clasped behind back. Then comes the rain and I laugh, walk calm, glad my pack is safe and dry in waiting truck. Hopelessly soaked to skin and limping from pot-hole, but still cheerful when I get there, get in, peel off jacket and dry face and arms, turn on the heat against sudden rainy chill and just watch the rain fall on my windshield and veil the streets and buildings and passing cars and all of eternities cluttered debris.

Satori of putting the car in drive and going.

OM.

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