Dye

An old woman just done
with getting her hair dyed
crushes the wire of her umbrella
when she stumbles stepping down
from the driver seat of her car.
She lands on her stomach
in the rain while it continues
coming down on her and soaking
through her jacket making darkness
leave the fibers of her hair
as if the weather had a way
of simply aging her back where
she was supposed to be.
Passerby’s now start to see
and hurry over recklessly
through busy streets where
street lights blur into endless streaks.
When they have her sitting down
now half drowned and out of breath
they ask if she has someone left
to pick her up and take her home,
away from them and all of this around her.
She doesn’t answer them but looks
at her reflection in the dark puddle
that remained stained by her hair dye
and the thought occurs to her
of diving in again into another round
of pouring rain pretend.
Where she could see again
just how loosely all beginnings
clip together with the end
and just how tightly all this gravity
can hold onto us.

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