Joy

I saw a man the other day

Standing in the rain

He held muddied hands up

To the sky and cried

As the dirt bled down his arms.

"I'm free," he yelled

And I stopped and stared.

"Tomorrow I will have finally forgotten you."

That man certainly knew

A thing or two about slowing traffic

That day.

And as I watched him

Broken and dirty on the wet pavement

I wondered what his deal was

And how I could get in on it.