The rain comes down.
Comes down in sheets.
Through the cloudburst haze
the lights become blurred
amorphous shapes flashing in
the heavy dew mist.
The rain comes down in sheets against the city lights, strings of neon that splinter on the sidewalks, forming puddles that capture the cities reflection, broken only by the footsteps of night wanderers.
The rain falls fine, encasing the city in a mist. Lights become distorted, losing shape and definition, formless entities flashing in the haze. They no longer advertise or guide, they simply hang in the firmament, flickering and changing colour on their own whims, electrical pulses reborn as bioluminescent organisms.
It’s the only thing with fully working lights. They shine through the downpour, whilst everything else loses form, becoming distant, alien. It serves as a beacon, offering warmth and shelter on cold, rain drenched nights.
Unfortunately the noodle bar is full right now. But if you wait awhile a seat will be available.
As always, feedback is welcomed.