Sometimes after rain thunders
down and then ceases—
you go gliding a little
faster over
fresh decalcified re-
hydrated sidewalks—exhilarated,
if a little bit dizzy,
with the big feeling you might be
upside down;
and it's you—whose actually swimming
under this cool black nightwater,
instead of those
moonpolished puddles up there—
each of them blueflecked
starry and distorting
as they sail past—
the reflections
of those two
quacking jumping
splashing sopping killer
whales of tennis shoes.