when waiting is more than waiting
i rode my motorcycle into town to celebrate a friend's art exhibition opening yesterday. it was busy when i arrived. i checked out his new paintings. a pastel display of objects and bodies. lovely. i chatted with friends as lightning began to flash outside the gallery. i thought to myself, it will only rain for a bit. no worries.
it rained from seven until a little past midnight and it rained hard. too hard to safely ride home at least. so i had to wait. another friend of mine invited me for a beer at her gallery. we drank and talked art and music. the rain persisted. she suggested we go to one of our favorite cantinas. we hid beneath a shared newspaper like in some silly movie as we skipped down to the cantina.
just one beer, i said, i have to ride home soon. we bumped into an old photographer friend and his new partner. we dance, we sang, we bemoaned the new ownership of the cantina. it was just past midnight when i saw my window between the rains to get on my motorcycle and head home. a beautiful moonlight ride. although i had to work at 5:30 am, i was glad to have had to wait in such a wonderful way. i don't even feel all that tired this morning. it is nights like last night that make me feel alive and well. even though i was waiting, it was more than waiting ... it was a little poem between the rains.