Tornado (Joy)

We spent endless minutes in the basement
Our minds brimming with a joy
When the world was dusk yellow
The backyard sick with fever
Winds prophesying our immanent return
To unbridled joyful bodies tossed
Within the holy trinity of mindless rage
Of air become a vacuum
And my fingertips filled
With an inexpressible urge to run
Into the surging night
To greet its joy with my joy –

But one night
Our parents pulled us out of bed
Still asleep
And waited out the night below
In silence.

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Westsider, Rare

The woman I loved
Chances to have drifted nearby
From across country;
Alights on a section of the city
Typically distant to me
But I happen to be there in evening
And see her photo on my phone,
A few blocks away in person
But still (safely) states away in heart.
I still proudly disbelieve in fate
But feel the irony that twists my heart
With thoughts of how we’re linked
And in the future, published,
I envision a woman reading these words –
Not her, someone else
Who I imagine myself feigning to love,
Imagine her reading and feeling sorrow
Because she never loved me in return.