Had I Known
Had I known it was going to rain, I would have carried my umbrella and extended it for him to grab as he went by.
If I had known he was a merman, I would not have dropped my purse and waded into the rushing river, imagining him in peril.
Had I known the fish leaping beside him were companions, I might have thought they were part of an act.
If I had known he could speak, I would have asked his name before he vanished into the current, and then he emerged, whooping and flailing but was too far away to hear me.
Had I known my shoes would be ruined, I would have kicked them off before entering the water to save a man who was half man and now traveling with great speed and putting distance between us.
If I had known the people running down the bank, screaming, were his comrades, I might not have felt so helpless, but then one was a clown, the other was a juggler, and the last was a woman with blond hair and a bulging bodice.
Had I known the seal splashing past and bouncing a ball had always tried to one-up the merman, I would have realized those running alongside the bank could see their fortunes swimming away.
If I had known the merman was enjoying the rush, I would have understood it was carrying him to the ocean and to freedom.
Had I known the trapeze artist dove off her perch into the seemingly endless stream of water that rushed out of the sizable tent, I would have realized as she swam by that she was secretly in love with the merman even though he only had eyes for Big Bella.
If I had known the man in coat tails was a magician, I would have celebrated his mutterings and wand waving as he conjured the staff that lifted me from the river before he vanished.
Had I known the circus was in town, I would have bought a ticket, sat under the Big Top, while lightning flashed, thunder cracked, and a pin slipped out of the rope-and-pulley, dropping a sandbag which smashed the aquarium as the river suddenly roared through the tent, carrying fish, sea turtles, and wonder.