Waterlogged

It seems as if I am strolling lazily

through stream beds and potholes

after a Sunday drizzle

Rain is soaking through my socks, 

puddling in my shoe bottoms

My feet slosh while I walk

with my head down and shoulders hunched,

unable to avoid the cool damp bottoms
of my jeans as they lick my ankles
with each lift of my sole

I cannot sidestep this sadness,
as I can with a parking lot puddle

I am waterlogged with dysphoria