thunderstorm
May 28, 2008
the splintered deck
was still hot to the touch
when the rain began
making its
little patterns upon the wood;
like warring battleships, the clouds, they
argued loudly across a dinner table of
water vapor:
something about the upcoming election;
and the lightning relished in the midst of the din,
joining the rain in some sort of
blurry
dance
while i swung
with the metal chains held
tight
in my hands;
i had always been a summer child.
