Under the doorway overhang they beckoned to me,
the three dry men, seeing a suddenly sodden gringo,
laughing, cascading such fellowship that I
would have let them rob me rather than deny
it, but I was soaked and out in the rain,
out in the night, with only three blocks to go
back to my hotel room, empty, dry.

I won't lie,
where I had been I had failed again
but in the rain I couldn't care so
the rain was where I chose to be.

There is nothing more to see.