I.

Squeaks and wetness

Splashing and puddles,

Leather shoes are soaked

The bus floor’s dampness attempts to reflect

Hallogened light.

II.

Hoods, scarves, and hats pulled over flattened, limp hair.

Everything is damp,

Or it will be shortly.

Humidity, the gas feeding our collective engine of frustration,

Is as prevalent as the liquid below my feet.

Not to mention the waterlogged socks on a million people.

III.

Hear the sounds of velvet rain,

Stuttering, dropping, plopping

On my rain-proof coat

Or thwacking my small umbrella.

Not to mention my jean bottoms are saturated;

Wetness rising, rising up and touching my cold calves.