I don’t believe in fate, but I don’t tempt it
by lending umbrellas. It could rain, or worse,
you could fall in love with me for all
the wrong reasons. Don’t expect me to keep you
dry. When I fall in love it will be with someone
who has her own umbrella & unending generosity,
& come to think of it, maybe she’ll lend you hers.
She’s better than me that way & I’m worse
because I’ll only share with her. Speaking of which,
what happened to your umbrella? Can I offer
to share mine? It was, after all, so generous of you
to give yours away. Take mine, I insist. & if it rains,
at least you’ll have an umbrella. & if I’m wet
& alone it will be a beautiful catastrophe.