On The Rail: Lion’s Eye

I walked to the Lion’s Eye, the rain coating everything and as I cut through the park I passed by a man nonchalantly pissing. He had the courtesy to step off the path and turn away from me but I couldn’t help but laugh. Pissing in the rain: if that isn’t a metaphor for most of our endeavors, I don’t know what is.

I’m isolated at the Lion’s Eye. Apparently, rainy evenings are for  couples turned in towards each other which leaves me to sit, drip all over the floor and write. I get a Natian imperial stout. It feels thick, like pudding, and soft on my tongue. Easy to drink and tasty. I’m pleased; this tastes and feels like a stout and I often feel stouts are too thin.

As I sip the beer, a bit more coffee bite starts to show up on the finish. A dryness too, like chalk on the fingers. I am already thinking about my walk home, though; distracted, diverted. Trying to think of the path that will both lead me under trees and get me home quickly.

I remember being on a walk in the Sullivan’s Gulch area during the afternoon a few months ago. It was raining and I was making my way back to work when I hear the pum-pum-pum of a runner carrying a load. A little boy, 7 or 8, Transformers backpack bouncing on his back as he ran, came up next to me, matching my stride. Every so often, he would twist, as though trying to dodge something invisible.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi. What’s got you running?”

“I’m trying to avoid getting wet,” he said.

“Ah. Makes sense. How’s that working out for you?” I asked him.

I could see him think about it through his jog, “Not super well.”

“Uh-huh. It’s like that, sometimes,” I said, knowing exactly why someone runs through the rain to not get wet.

The kid crossed behind me to my right side as we crossed the street. He kept pace with me, which is impressive for I do not walk slowly. As we came up to a house with a long driveway, I noticed a woman standing on the porch, arms crossed like she was waiting for someone.

“See you later,” the boy said, veering off into the driveway.

“Bye.”

I can’t dodge raindrops and I don’t try to, anymore. Well. Most of the time.

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