streetlight flickers,  
and somewhere, sandals kiss puddles  
I didn’t bring an umbrella,  
but maybe I wanted to feel this on my skin  
drip drop syncopation—  
the sky knows how to groove  
humidity curling my hair like memories  
sticky, sudden, soft  
a laugh from the rooftop,  
maybe it’s you, maybe just the wind  
either way, it fits  
this scene doesn’t need a script  
we weren’t supposed to talk again  
but isn’t rain a kind of excuse?  
I write your name in the fogged glass of a taxi  
and let it melt like mango on tongue  
don’t call,  
just send me that old playlist  
you know, the one with that trumpet solo  
that feels like we’re still dancing  
even if we never were