You Said There was Rain

It wasn't raining when you said it was. I asked the weather and you said rain. That the wind was howling and the water was beating down. I planned accordingly. I put on my overcoat and grabbed my umbrella. When I opened the door there was nothing. I saw, felt, none of those things. You said it must have stopped. But the ground was dry, the leaves were matte, I could not feel the moisture from the after-pour. When I asked you to explain yourself you seemed confused. When you came to the door you seemed it further. But, you said, the rain, it was here, it was there, it was everywhere. It was raining, you said. It was raining. OK, I said. OK. I opened my umbrella and walked out into the sun.