Rainy Night Poem

I hadn't planned on pizza but the
rain was coming down in sheets

so cold

as I left the church where my
group was meeting

so I went into the pizza place

so warm

but only right by the counter
so I stood there and ate
my two slices, as close to the
oven as I could be

A woman I had just met
came in and ordered
a slice

"With anchovies,"
she said, putting the accent on the
"an" because she
is British.

I moved to a table in the
front and sat with her, warmer now,
not so wet and chilled.

The rain crashed down, right in front of us.

All the windows and doors were
open and we were
inside and outside at the
same time.

"This is just great," she
said, adding, "well, except for
that," gesturing toward
the green dumpster, supersize,
in front of the open doors,
filled with construction
debris.

Then she changed her mind.

"No," she said, "actually the
dumpster is perfect too."

I went back to the counter
for something and another customer,
a wrily jovial man
who had been waiting
with his wife for a
fresh pie

said to me, all earnest,
"I hope the rain keeps up."

"Why?" I asked, puzzled,
walking into it.

"Because," he said,
"then it won't come down!"

I groaned but
felt
secretly

so happy