The Difference Is I Carry My Umbrella Everywhere Poem by I.J. Benjamin

When it's late at night or thick in the afternoon,
or the traffic is the worst, or the toast machine is broken
and you are swimming through waves of sweaty crowds,
notice the squeak of the birds in the sky, the rattle of the pipes, the sound of everything so easily becoming
unstuck.

The man on the news says that showers are likely tomorrow,
though yesterday he said the same thing, and there weren't any showers, instead there was a collision on the freeway and four people died as easily as God breaking a young tree.

Though you might not know it, to somebody you are totally insignificant and absolutely unordinary. As the days go into years, that list becomes as heavy as your credit card debt. All it takes, always, is a wrong woman, wrong friends, and a right pub. Or even to notice the clouds, and the sound that the tires of the bus make as they roll through the mud.

And if tomorrow doesn't rain you might consider us
lucky.