Storm

In between

you and me

there is thick, black smoke

and gray fog

and still, quieted, dried leaves

clogging up our veins

in our eyes

they are turning red

as if they had worms in them

rotting from the inside

to the outside

we aren’t looking

eye-to-eye

anymore, only waiting

for the eye of the storm

the big black eye

into which we are being consumed

that is bringing the change

we need

our eyes need

I need

before I turn red like blood

before we are sinking into the growing puddles of blood

that formed around our fits

and mouths

with which we were fighting.

Raging fire is tearing up the skies

loud and bright

thunder and light

above

and everything below

my feet

I dig them into your belly

deep

my nails I dig into your skin

so deep

so that it hurts

so that you have to look at me

one last time

but you still can’t see

because there’s this cloud

of anger and rage and madness

and when the lightning strokes tear up the darkness

you can see

that I have left

you standing there

alone

wet

and gone

around the corner

to the bus stop

where there’s a hut

with a roof

made of plastic

and no rain.

And there I wait

in silence

with rain in my face

and tears

for the storm to pass.

I lie down on the wet ground

press my palms into the ground

to feel the hot earth

that’s throbbing

and pumping again

the hot asphalt is burning my skin

my clothes.

It’s giving me life.

I open my tired eyes

and I can’t see

it’s so bright

so bright

the sun

is blinding me

but then I see

the vastness

of the skies

of the universe.

As I stand up

I level my gaze

and match the horizon

and I see

the prairies

villages

cities

the railroads

from the bus stop

I see the distance

and the road to get there.

The bus comes,

I hop on,

and I leave

into the distance

with my backpack

and no map

and only memories to remind me where I came from.