Late to the Party, I Join the Host
People who say that there is no such thing as bad weather,
Only in adequate clothes, have never spent half an hour,
With a bladder full of tea and a heart full of hope
At a bus stop in an unfamiliar town as the sun sets and rain begins.
Those who say “Go with the flow” have not considered
Such situations, where “flow” is not particularly desirable.
Sometimes getting there is half the battle, whether
You measure this run-in with public transportation
Or your whole life leading up to this: school and gym,
Band practice, college days spent studying in the sun,
The first job, hiking in the Alps, more school,
The teachers who changed your life for good or ill,
Bad dates, good dinners, and all the nights up to that
Moment when the cat patted your face to wake you and
You rose, a different person than you had been
The day before, the decade before, all of it leading you
Here to this wet bus stop trying to get across this
Town (in the correct direction this time) to find the party.