rain in midtown

Just outside Grand Central Station,
I am pushing through the crowds
Between the walls of glass and stone
below a sky that's free of clouds.

When on my cheek I feel a drop,
away, I wipe it like a hair,
look in puzzlement at the sky
and continue on to Pershing Square.

I feel another droplet fall,
hit cold and wet upon my arm
like icy little pins they start
and each one fills me with alarm.

The sky still far and clear and blue
reflects its light on mirrored tower.
No one is reaching for umbrellas
in preparation for the coming shower.

Along Madison Avenue
the rain begins to pour.
It soaks through my ivory blouse
and chills me to my very core.

But on the street, not one looks up,
their heads and clothes stay dry.
As puddles forms inside my shoes
bike messengers and business men go by.

My hair is sticking to my face.
Water is collecting by my feet.
Make-up is running from my eyes
as I turn right on 38th St.

The flood begins on the corner
when the streetlights change to red.
Waves of water rush past cabs
and splash into the traffic ahead.

The rainwater rises but no one cares.
They walk unfazed below the tide
as I choke on liquid, gasp for breath
praying for the waters to subside.

I struggle to hold to the building's side
As the waters continue to rise.
My fingers slip, I fall below,
hands reaching up to clear blue skies.

Below the surface, the water's cold
it's iciness numbs my fear.
I close my eyes to fall asleep.
I hope nobody finds me here.