If we closed our eyes
and clasped our hands,
tightly but tenderly,
I imagine we would be whisked away
in a whirl of color and light and flying or falling.
Time would rush madly to a standstill,
and we would come to know the mysteries
that puzzle philosophers and propel poets.
Of course, rain would still be rain,
and inevitable evenings stuck in traffic
would continue like clockwork,
each minute dragging its feet.
But every so often, there would be
a sweet reminder of all we had seen,
the windshield blurring, just so, with rain
and the light from the streetlamps
reaching through the dark toward us
and pulling us along on our way home.