65/80/113

the power went out, then gusting at 65 mph.

for days until our game of anti-golf,

i considered my inconsistencies and ate, purchased poison.

now it's out again at 80, and the stars are all so clear.

instead of howling winds and more snow than any southerner has ever seen,

this time it's a heat index of 113 and lightning-split trees.

i can't help but think about sometime else away from the debris

full of flames named doctor, burning that wick,

watching the wax build up on the steps of that porch...

tell me about your universe, rules and all.

the threat of storms doesn't seem to matter as much anymore.

let the chairs overturn, cars crowd the backroads, and rain flood my floor.

when you ask for something good, there's always a catch,

or at least that was my understanding of it.