It rained so fast in Sydney

As will be painfully obvious, I wrote this poem sometime after Michael and I broke up; I'd roughly guess in the spring of 2010. Despite that and everything else that has happened since then, I think about my trip to Sydney (in March of 2009) often and with a healthy amount of nostalgia. I found myself talking about it to someone today, and was reminded of a few phrases from this.

It rained so fast in Sydney

It rained so fast in Sydney,
faster than I could have dreamed,
we were only ducking from one pub
to the next – so we unraveled.

Is it sad to say I was happiest

when you weren’t prying at my hinges? I drifted

on the subway while you worked, buoyant in the tide

of strangers. Mysterious fish darted in the harbor.

Even the trees were alien

and fragrant.

I often thought, stepping into a square,

or changing money, I am a free citizen of the earth.

I am an unbounded cloud,

a part of the water cycle. Michael,

there are so many births and lives.

Was I really the only thing

that ever made you curious?