It’s Raining

It’s raining
and the roads
are already flooded.
Trucks make it through,
they are high up,
high enough to roll
right through those
flooded roads.
You drive a fancy red sports car
and your clearance
is eight inches,
eight inches from
the floor to the macadam.
The puddles may be twice that.
It’s raining and you’re out there;
maybe you pulled over
and stopped, awaiting the
cessation of the deluge.
We argued, and although
I don’t think it was
of great import,
you stormed out,
matching our weather.
I’m thinking of you, alone
in your red car,
driving while
it’s raining.