when we lean back against the
overpass railing. collect raindrops
on our fingers instead of naming children
who will never be born. engage in
arguments with green lightning storm.
your obsession with electricity, afraid to be
touched, but the atmospheric molecules
that connect us. under our feet a convoy of
diesels blows by in a rush of petroleum
wind. we load our pockets with
static flames. fall weightless into
forty years from now. a remembrance
of thunder’s haunted soliloquy.
