cascades of lightning through
polished glass panes crease the
worry lines on the forehead of
the wild-haired girl who ran
over the raccoon this evening
driving on backroads flying
sixty-five to beat the storm
she sang along to fleetwood
hoped that her pa would look
down and smile at the thing
she’d become at eighteen
worried about the world still
scared of thunderstorms in
summer where the wind grows
restless and unpredictable as
the words that followed her home
There is absolutely no one else
I would want to drive the distance
Eleven hours to be exact
Sleeping in the car
In a sketchy gas station lot
Visit the beach for a few hours
Just to cheers a hot dog with
“honk if you love my wiener!”
Crisp skin and aching muscles
While I’m certain our once freckles
Are now signs of melanoma, ha
Driving home to the soothing sounds
Of Matthew McConahay on the radio
Pretending we’re young again
And Monday’s shift doesn’t matter.
Absolutely no one else
Just you.
It frustrates me
that I never see you
outside the courthouse
protesting against
pedophiles
(especially not so-called holy men),
spouse abusers,
drunk drivers,
or mass shooters.
(Not that you’ll admit
you worship guns
as much as
you worship God.)
Jesus said, “Whatever you do
to the least of these,
you have done to me.”
And you have the nerve
to barge into
a marginalized community
and try to ruin things
on a day of celebration.
We don’t
break down the doors of your church
on Christmas morning
to loudly discuss your sins.
Yet you disrespect us in this way.
You think you are doing some noble thing.
You think you are saving souls.
But really you’re just being a jerk.
And even God thinks so.
If you really want to be humble
and be of service
instead of self-righteous,
help the Pride Center
feed the LGBTQ+ community.
Find housing
for the gay teenager
who was just kicked out of their home.
Talk a transgender person
out of committing suicide.
Protect a trans child
from bullying,
especially from adults,
especially from politicians.
Or is that too heavy for you?
You like to talk a big Jesus game.
But when it comes to actually loving your neighbor,
you’re not made of much.
Isn’t it funny God never asks you
to do anything
that makes you uncomfortable?
Isn’t it a fine coincidence
Jesus seems to hate
the same people you do?
Silence invites me
for a walk. We
stride out, water
sloshing in my blue
bottle. She stops
to search prickly-pear
spines for secrets.
Cactus wrens
ignore us. Down
the steep part,
her shadow
overtakes mine.
Deep in the canyon,
she reaches
for my hand.
I pulled over far as I could, flashers on.
It’s a crazy two-lane road,
people drive so fast, heedless.
I pulled a gray goose by the dry blue feet,
resting the still form in a bed of clover.
I couldn’t stand to see that beautiful body
smashed any further.
I resisted stroking the feathers, still smooth,
as there were headlights in the distance.
storms and spiders trickle down my neck
make my hair stand up
my back itches and it wont go away
the long legs crawl up my arm
the rain fogs my glasses
and the thunder oh the thunder
makes my heart shake
the spiders and storms drench my hair
knotting it every which way
storms and spiders take me away
They’ll tell you that Kentucky bluegrass isn’t really blue.
The local news station has said all week
there would be bad weather today,
storms with wind and hail,
maybe tornadoes.
This thick air outside
building bulky black clouds
just as quickly scattered as they appear
has kept me on edge
And those meteorologists on TV
play into the brightly colored maps.
They love a good story.
After all, it keeps us watching.
But my brain keeps returning to the night
they weren’t predicting those rains we got
bringing floods and all that destruction
until well into early morning
when we all woke to water,
and for some
it was too late
So, maybe they’re overcompensating
just in case,
but all I know is I hate this feeling
when all the pressure pushes against the atmosphere
and it feels like something is about to give,
but no one can say for certain what.
Deciduous waves welcome
me home, where canceled flights fade
to fuzzy haze as
I burrow into dream-soft
sheets, drift toward slumber’s velvet depths.
there’s nothing better
than standing outside the car
brushing your teeth
using a water bottle
standing at an ocean that
yesterday was eleven hours away
salted sun burned skin
there’s nothing better
than fighting against waves
all day until you’re thirsty and sore
you find a hot dog shop
sit down at a table
and eat something so perfect
with someone so perfect
none of it would have meant
anything
there’s no story worth telling
without the one I love
