the other night i went on a coffee run for my boyfriend and i at midnight, and it was the first rain of the season, and i began to think about how the roads are dangerous during the first rainfall. and that naturally led me to think my car was wearing ice skates and the ground was the ice. and i’m poor at ice skating and i’m always terrified of falling and so that’s what i was afraid of, my car slipping and veering out of control. but then that fear didn’t last long because i began to think how windshield wipers are a metronome and how rain will always remind me of santa cruz. rain brings me back to the first time i bought rain boots and jumped in a puddle and realized i was invincible. and then i moved on from that thought, and i looked at the ground and saw the way the street lights reflected onto the wet road. there were streaks of red and green with smudges of yellow here and there. it looked like dripping paint. it reminded me of pollock’s work. and i began to think that if rain was the paintbrush, the pavement was the canvas. and that i was part of a watercolor painting. that i was part of a painting. yes, that. that i am part of art.