"Rain falls angry on the tin roof
as we lie awake in my bed."
~Edwin McCain, Overused Songs of the 2000s
There have been two
magical style dancing in the rain moments
in my life
moments that deserve to be on shows like
Dawson's Creek, One Tree Hill and
The first was in 2008 and
it had begun to rain.
One of my friends and I
had just snuck back on campus
after leaving to have lunch and whatnots
with a current boyfriend.
We were invincible,
walking through the parkin glot.
Nothing could touch us.
And it began to rain.
And we looked at each other
and took off our sweater vests until
it was simply skirt and shirt and shoes
and began to dance
We had no music.
We did not speak.
We simply moved.
We were feral and wild.
Several cars drove by
and then drove up into the parking lot
and watched as we danced.
We did not dance for anyone's titillation
but there was an enchantment nevertheless.
We danced until we were sopping wet
until our long hair was drenched
and we kept dancing anyway.
We danced alone and we danced together
and the rain kept falling.
I do not know how long
we danced for
and neither of us has forgotten that day
although we do not speak of it often,
because we know there was power there
moving between us.
There still is, on occasion,
but never so much as that afternoon.
That afternoon was magic
and there was sunlight
in the rain drops.