Why I'm Wet

There's a strange feeling in the air tonight.
Something that has tagged along on the wind,
moving freely about,
completely unhindered by rational thought
or the opinions of the 5:00 weatherman.

A light mist drives down from above
or below, I really can't be sure
it just feels so right
the soft spray in my face,
on the back of my neck,
the tender places on arms and hands
that don't feel everything
like they should.

Maybe it's just me, the unsensible one
standing in the wet dusk
stretching my face to the steel sky
catching glimpses of the mist
drifting softly into my eyes.

They are staring at me.
I can feel it.
Glances at the wierd guy
standing there in the rain
getting soaked and "catching a cold",
mother's favorite fable.
The requisite debasement of unfamiliarity.

It's hard to project those feelings
of inadequacy and embarassment
that they expect from me
the idiot in the t-shirt and jeans
who forgot his umbrella
and stands in the rain
feeling the dark wet comfort
this blanket of mother nature.