Oh the Rain! Please Go Away!

  The Rain by Robert Creeley

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

Well, alas it's one of the side effects of living in Vancouver; rain, lots and lots of rain.  For close to ten months out of the year, the skies are cloudy and the city is pummelled with wet, cold, rain.  Wind blows it every which way, whipping it into your face, soaking your pants, dripping into your shoes until you might as well be wearing sandals.  We try to avoid it, driving to work, or if forced to take the bus, we gear up and don our umbrellas, dashing in and out of doorways, under trees, under any kind of shelter on our way to work.
  Finally arriving at work, we trudge through the door into the relief of a dry place.  Dripping wet, shaking our head to get rid of the water, we mutter a good morning to are co workers; complaining bitterly about the rain.  Yet we don't let it ruin our day, for in this city we are used to it; somewhat bitter still but resigned nevertheless.  Happy to be out of the rain for the rest of the day, we settle into our desk; we have a long day ahead.
  Throughout the day we keep finding our eyes drifting towards the window, hoping each time to see that the skies had cleared.  Finally it's coming on to five o'clock; another day at the office has passed.  We forgo the afternoon drink with our co workers, wanting to get our chores done and into our dry houses as soon as possible.  For some, instead of going home it's off to the gym; for this skipped their morning run due to the nasty weather.  Driving home, the roads are jammed packed with cars; rush hour made even worse by the never ending rain.  The influx of cars due to the fact that those who would walk or bike to work normally decided to drive instead. Sitting in your car, the radio playing softly, the windshield wipers "squeak, squeaking" back and forth, back and forth.  It has a somewhat mesmerizing effect on you.
  After sitting in traffic for what feels like forever, we reach our destination, wherever we might be going.  The work day is finally over, the rain still pouring down in never ending torrents.   As I write this, I'm in the comfort of my warm, dry living room.  The rain has been coming down relentlessly since the previous night, and I will soon be heading out to work.  Driving my Honda Scooter up to UBC, the ten short minutes in will take me to arrive at work will thoroughly soak me, even wearing my "waterproof" jacket.   At work, the floors will be wet, people constantly dragging water in with them, making it impossible to keep them dry.  After a few hours working in my wet clothes, I will eventually dry, only to be granted a few moments reprieve before I head back home, getting soaked to the bone all over again.  Oh the rain!  Hear my cries; please go away!