Diane Payne

by Diane Payne
People ducking beneath wet umbrellas,
avoiding the woman’s hand reaching
out  from the window ledge. “Spare
change?” she asks to no one in particular.
“Spare rain?” a man laughs running to his car,
giving the woman one last look before crawling
into the driver’s seat, while the woman remains
crouched, filling her hand with spare rain.

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