Saturday, August 12, 2006

#111: August 12, 2006

The sky was absolutely biblical
that day we dropped our lives and headed west--
those spears of light through nimbus piled tall
and sharp enough to pierce the desert's chest

with glory. Then the thunderheads rolled in
and lightning snaked the belly of the storm.
My hair erect with static and my sin,
I watched the rain come down, eroding form;

I felt suddenly lost, thrown off level
like I'd never felt wind through my wet hair--
and something in my soul, not quite devil,
told me to ditch the car right then and there

and leave you in it, simply walk away
like Moses. We made Reno the next day.

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