Tonight's Poet Corner: Deluge in the Canal

Deluge in the Canal
by Belinda Roddie

Autumn steps back for a moment as
this scene unfolds: A fire hydrant
is unceremoniously torn from its
asphalt roots, a school bus's faded yellow
mudflaps shredded into ribbons as it shuffles
with rumbling chagrin to the curb. It is
a hot day, September summer.The water

erupts in a volcanic glory on this hot
day. The children are ecstatic. They don't
think about drought or water rationing; they think
about sprinklers and swimming pools
and slip-n-slides. They dance beneath
the newly made geyser while the nice men
in black uniforms and funny hats try to shoo
them back onto the wet lawn nearby.

I tell two guys in Giants gear what happened. I
was there. I saw the existential struggle
of an oversized vehicle as it scraped its way
past its newest obstacle. I witnessed the first burst
of liquid livelihood soaring above the red roof of
my Ford Focus. Now I'm standing with the sun
kissing my shoulders, sweating under my
neatly buttoned vest and knotted tie, wishing
I was dressed in something less suffocating - or

better yet, that I was skipping with the kids
around the gushing accidental fountain, letting
drops as big as stones bruise the curve of my back,
soaking me to the bone, washing away
the anxiety and infusing me with irrational
excitement instead.