350-Superduty...a poem by madisen

 

 

350-Superduty

 

This afternoon it had taken Lewis

an hour to drive home,

on account of the rain            the wind

and the lightning,

he explained to his wife.

 

When the sirens voiced their opinion

on the matter of cold and warm air’s

rapid, blue-eyed affair, crying

out for what felt like forever

Lewis proudly mentioned that the

pillows, the mattress

they was already there,

in the bathroom

next to the bathtub

waiting to comfort and protect

the couple

from the impending tornado.

 

This was all very true

and it was all very nice, considerate even

but his ol’ girl still ran screaming—

with paucity of reason, she panted

tracing out weather patterns

on the ceiling of their

trailer

opening and closing windows

screaming that the bathroom

did not have a bathtub after all

and for the last goddamn-time

a mobile home

is not a house.

 

Lewis, asleep already,

surrendering to some milky half-dream

about women he knew in high school,

in his dream, girls he knew in high school,

and about the beautiful house that he

and his high school sweetheart shared, just how

great it looked when it was wet,

the metal really sparkled something nice

in the rain.

So  lost, so enveloped was he

that when

the glass, the trailer itself

imploded

he thought it only thunder

and pulled another wet pillow

over his head.