Rain

I can hear the ocean in cars' tires on wet street. Drops hit the balcony railing hard, splash up. Between drops, a calm mirror-pool on the railing's silver surface. Bright grey light all around. A good day to stay inside, but my friend has died, and I am restless. At the art museum, I will sit by the paintings she'd like best. I might even write her a letter, pretending.