The Anatomy of an Astraphobe

Lightning is a funny thing the way it strikes---

twice

and then not at all

and then far out there, frightening in its disposition

way off in the distance

igniting my long forgotten Fata Morgana

and it caused me to sleepwalk with a bloody nose

and start talking about the eye and all its silence

and its blue valentine

telling me it wasn't real

But it wasn't blue--

it was octarine---

I told you that and you just forgot

and every time I reached a tree, the next one got further away from me

until all space between us was nimble

and ripe for the strike---