July 16, 2003


tonight when
the rumbling came
I stood in the open,
eyes to the sky
and dared
the lightning

I did that. Tonight. At Walmart. How romantic an image. Me, under the neon blue, reflecting off wet pavement. Jenna was safe in the car when the shaking started. That is what the low end does here, the thunder--it shakes everything. People, houses, china. Rumbles in for what feels like an hour.

I finished loading packages into the van, one eye on the light show above and off to the west, coming. Coming fast, strikes five miles up 92.

I closed the hatchback and stepped into the open. Stood there. For longer than you do. A lot longer. Wanting it to hit, discharge my rage, make my heart molten, take away the pain in my right side. Been hurting so long now. I don't know. A rib, something. Phantom pain. Only fire can turn coal to dust like that.

It happens, from time to time, the burning, the wanting to shock and be shocked.

It's new and I have learned to difuse it with the sunshine of the day.

But not at night, when I would spit fire to the sky and line midnight blue with veins of white.