wretched (wet) thoughts

After brushes with death, road rage,
squeaky brakes;
And situations with stubborn locks, I escape the
Wretched, wet world out there.
I Leave shoes askew in the doorway
Under the canopy of my hastily discarded
Plastic cape,
For no one is here to judge if
I creep up shiny, dark stairs in
Sodden socks
To retreive my gift with barely
A smile.
I wrap it in four plastic bags for it's a
Wretched, wet world out there
And if I lost my
Precious package
I'd be distraught for surely
I deserve a pick-up after (I pick up my
fallen bike)
Such a day (I curse).
Slightly crazed I call the other
Drivers
When I should call me that fore
Front in my head's the thought: what a
Wretched, wet world out there
Where the rain--
brings life, I hear, and wets the dust
or turns it to mud (in my world)--
renders my life so terribly inconvenient,
So wet--
So quickly I forget that
Woman
I met yesterday, little older than me,
She'll probably die soon and
her baby...