I walked into the Subway streaming water in great wide rivers from the ends of my hair, which lay flat and dark with rain. I wiped the expanse of my fivehead with the back of my sleeve and moved the soggy shirt from my soft belly bits, because who wants their soft belly bits clung to and exposed like a Christmas ham wrapped in cellophane?

"It's raining just a bit..." I said.

The Subway Duchess turned around while speaking, "Yeah, I saw that it was starting to rain a OH MY GOD, YOU ARE DRENCHED!"

I dripped on my sandwich and on my bag of chips and on my two cookies and on my cup, and when I walked back outside, it was raining twice as hard as it was before. It was like one of those comic books where the rain is drawn with dense lines of white and silver.

I walked back to my car, thinking that it would have made more sense just to be naked, but stopping myself in the reminder of just how close I am every day to incarceration or committal. I dripped on the car and on the car seat and on the floor mats, and when I got up to walk inside my home, there was this moist indentation of my butt on the fabric, kinda like the days where I went swimming as a kid and rode back without laying a towel down first.

When I walked in the rain with my Subway in hand, the rain had stopped being rain and had reached such a level of ridiculousness that it made me giggle. And I walked and I giggled and it was like walking through a super huge shower with a really strong shower head. And I giggled more and my shoes filled up and my socks filled up and then there was an alligator and then a submarine and then I found Atlantis in the muddy footstep of a passing dog.

It should rain on me more often like that. It's amazing how happy I am when I give up and give in.