Monday, 29 October 2012

• Sunshine on my shoulder

  I hadn't walked more than a block when it started to rain. It was a strange kind of rain, because the sun just kept right on shining as if it weren't happening.  The sun and the rain both acted like they didn't give a damn and I didn't give a damn, so that made three of us. You could see the raindrops sliding down the windows with the sun shining through them. You could see a guy in a cowboy hat walking down the street who didn't care if bullet shaped raindrops shined right through him.

  "The devil is beating his wife," I said to myself which is what you are supposed to say to yourself when the sun is shining when it's raining, always provided, of course, that you're still speaking terms with yourself.

  I kept to myself because who was I to get in the middle of this particular domestic dispute.

  I turned and walked away and stepped on a twisted toy trumpet some kid had left in the rain and almost broke my leg.  I was lying in the gutter like Oscar Wilde, staring at stars no one else could see.

  No ones's ever won the human race and and every hamster doesn't ride the wheel.

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