Thunderstorm

Thunder, thunder, lightning--
come
inside to my playground
in the deep, black night.
Rumble and crackle with all your might
while nature's strobe-light of
continuous electricity
makes your night sky beam.

And forgive me--
don't go
quite so quickly as you came--
in this way you remind me
of a one-night fuck
who leaves abruptly just after coming
and I haven't even had a chance
to catch my breath
until you're on your way
to the next house,
the next town--
I can only savor the smell
penetrating my room
and the thought that I might remember
all the things you did for me,
all the noises you made--
when really, the memory starts to fade
the instant my eyelids
grow too heavy to hold open anymore
and I meander off to sleep,
moaning quiet, smiling words
about how good you were to me--
and "you bastard,"
for leaving me too goddammed soon.

 

2000 linda lee tritton


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