THE STORM The storm sits waiting on the left side of the sky Thick, evil-coloured cotton candy Still a ways off, it throws shadow at the road The sound of transport trucks bouncing on the highway Or thunder Mamas gather children close around them Their eyes all Chinese against the wind The dirt and dust liberated to the air As the temperature drops, the fearful seek shelter Windows close, doors slam shut Deserted in those last few moments. Standing under a convenience store awning, I watch No one stops me as I walk to the middle of the road Hugging myself, it really is cold. Suddenly stillness, I hear pins dropping somewhere Or raindrops. With my palms open to the sky The first raindrop falls on my cheek And then come the torrents of water Soaking me as I do a post-modern raindance Screaming justice justice wash all this away Then the clouds break and a rainbow shines And ruins the whole damn thing.
Stephen's other works