storm

sunday storm

I become aroused when a storm
approaches. when the scatter
of bright blue light is invaded
by a line of heavy smoke inching
its way to erase a perfect
sunday.

deep rumble reaches even if it
is still several miles west over
cornfields. I grin. the hot humid
air now cool and expedited. it
ripples my dark blue t shirt, swirling
under, glancing my sticky
skin.

billions of joules striping at
soil- the crack now only
seconds after. I am flush. feel
satisfied. content. a storm
that cleanses man’s ego as it
ushers all of us deceitful
animals inside.

I light a cigarette and curl up
in the swirling dark green ashen
blanket.

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