When I woke this morning, the sky was pouring down rain.
I was not wearing a shirt, and I walked out my door
and down the stairs and the air growled one long time like a dreaming wolf.
All over my body, my hair stood up like I had a first shot of vodka
or saw a water moccasin, and for the duration of the thunder I was the storm;
electricity jolted across the surface of my skin and I felt everything.
Suddenly I begin shivering from the cold.
My apotheosis is incomplete-
the overflowing gutters are boring,
the clouds are not nearly dark enough,
even the touch of the rain is now like a woman who has stayed too long.
I walk up the stairs and into my door and dry off with a black towel.
Is it really three fucking hours until they open the bar?
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