From the terrace of the old Library someone calls my name. And I don't notice. And instead turn away, as the rain falls endlessly onto the pavement. And countless cars race past causing the water to surge at my feet. And the rain running down my cheek is sticky,sweet, and smells of product. And somewhere, possibly inside my head, the Eurythmics, Here Comes The Rain Again is playing.
Skipping the queue at the rank someone who I've never seen in my life, jabs me on the shoulder, and I close the carriage door. And they bang on the window, and their mouth is moving but I only hear the rain falling on the roof. And the door locks, and a small amber light flicks on behind me. And the words which fall from my mouth are entangled with condensation and bar names, and eventually the driver understands what I am saying and the car jerks into the a motionless line of traffic.
And in the forty five minutes that I sit in the back of the cab, the fog lifts, but the rain carrys on, and I'm thinking, is it raining with you?