When we were asleep it rained
On the streets like fine sawdust.
The passing cars have sneezed
Grease bubbles in rain puddles.
Feet in rolled trousers take care
You don’t tread on our rainbows.
They are wistful and fragmentary
Besides somewhat hallucinatory.
As you walk, trousers rolled up,
Step on the stones and hop skip
As stones shake with indecision
And let the swirls be your guide .