Sharp and cold’s the flashing rain
Upon my black umbrella
Which I relinquish happily
Unto my new love, Stella.
Now her springtime golden tress
Is dry as my nervous mouth
For my journey takes me northward
While she vacantly looks south.
I stammer “what’s your number?”
As an adolescent might,
And I’ll never forget her eyes,
Dark blue just like the night.
“First you give me this thing,”
She says towards my umbrella,
“Then follow me for blocks
“Like I’m some sort of Cinderella?
“I won’t give you my number
“And I beg you, leave me be!”
Then she closed my umbrella
And thrust it into me.
And in that painful moment,
Twice breathless made am I
For my heart says “Dude, she saw you!”
Though my gut tells me to cry.
Thus as my tears join eagerly
The gutter’s growing moat
I wish her path be free of puddles
For I cannot lay down my coat.