Lyon

waiting past midnight
for a last bus
in the first good storm
beneath the foam
of a beer store marquee
with a single incandescent
resting head
on misted brick
a while

the rain comes
summer warm
and the fairylight stars
of puddles
and their streetlamps
make the waiting kind
of a home to itself
in a Ghibli tableau
of waterdrop solitude
wonder where
you are