A Woman in the Rain

The puddles have overcrowded the roads,
Singing symphonies of collected rain.
I watch the sky as my grey cloud explodes,
Washing away the city’s dirty pain.
I find that now the streets belong to me,
Sharing it with the random umbrella.
They hide the faces that I wish to see,
Protecting each individual’s flaw.
We can find safety in this day’s deluge
Of living up to the fashion’s standards.
The precipitation turns into rouge
Which from society’s sharp teeth, it guards.
The freedom I find here is most pleasing
By myself in Bangkok’s rainy season.

The Game

Not every night needs to be the same.
We can change the routine a little bit
By playing a different kind of game.
Once you start, you won’t be able to quit.
It is not that type of competition.
The rules are not always written out
For a clearer kind of explanation,
But you need to be ready for a bout
That will match all of your wits against mine.
The game need not always choose a winner
Because there is no real finish line
When competing with this group of sinners.
You are not given a choice but to play
A game that we all play everyday.