Walking in the spring rain
without an umbrella
should be avoided
by budding poets.
It leads to writing
little bad poems about
walking in the May rain
without an umbrella.
I write you these lines
as a note of warning.
I saw that glint in you eye
when it began to drizzle
and I was all curled up
with the morning’s crossword
trying to think of the name
of the first president of Turkey.
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