Looking for puddles

He looks at it, planning it, forecasting it.
He bites down hard on his lip, staring and glaring at it.
But I don’t look at it like he does. I look at it and smile and giggle a little
I look at you and ask you how beautiful it is, and see you smile.
We would both take off our coats,
that makes us the same,
But he would hand you his, put it over your shoulders, and rush you to his car
Pulling you out of the way of puddles.
He’ll tell you to hurry into your house,
And get out of it,
He’ll tell you it’s bad, it’s a bad night.
I wouldn’t hand you my coat,
unless you asked for it.
I would drop it on my porch, and walk you to the street.
Then I would smile at you, and tell you that you were right
It is beautiful.
And then I would race you home, letting you splash me with all the big puddles
(even if I see them first).
And maybe then I would stand with you in your front yard,
And tell you how beautiful you are.
And maybe then you won’t want to go into your house,
You won’t want to get out of it.
And maybe you’ll tell me that it’s a good night
It’s the best night.