Still Riffing on the Blue Bike

Last night it rained so hard that our street and yard flooded.  It was garbage can night and all those heavy green and brown and blue wheeled cans were floating at the curb, or already upended by the rushing brown and foamy water.  At midnight we were out there up to our shins, moving cars to higher ground and trying to set the cans right before more trash washed away.  After all that scurrying, this morning there wasn't a puddle left.  A thin drab film of dried mud was the only sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened.  If the neighbor hadn't gone ringing doorbells up and down the dark street, I would have slept through the whole thing.