Myself on the left, with you on right
Forced onto the same trodden soil
Pushed into the same drenched wind
But I’ll step with my left foot first
     And you start your pace with the right.
In a reflex as the path becomes mud
I’ll hold out my left hand and you your right
“Do you feel that?”
Yes, we feel the same thing
The same moisture on our skin, in our hair
But why is it then that while
     this rain has corroded my porch
You smile that your garden has bloomed?
There exists no shortage of hyacinth here
Surely you’ll permit my taking this one bloom
Neither large nor vibrant, but if you can afford
to laugh at such a impressive storm
then you can afford to lose this tiny portion
of those weeds you call your happiness.
I doubt it matters much to you anyways
After all, when the two of us are together
     it’s always you that’s right and me that’s left.