Late night poem, after some alcohol

Here again,
uncertain times in uncertain weather,
water splashing the spokes
and cold knees.

Passing trees like heads
under wet, heavy hair,
tasting the air,
thinking of you.

For now, the world is gray
with shining streets,
no rainwater rising with the wreckage,
no smoky dogs curled asleep.

And it seems tonight
has a familiar end to find,
bike in the spiders' den
without you in mine.

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no rainwater rising... cf. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
no smoky dogs... cf. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"