thunder and lightning

they say we only have
a minute possibility
of being struck
by lightning.

please call 9-1-1,
if you’re in my vicinity.
I’ve been ignited,
and the normally grounding
rubber I have in my boots
hasn’t done much good.

I am off,
I am free, and I am on fire,
flaming with the intensity
of those solstices that our friends
the wiccans turned into celebration.

I am alight,
I am free, and I am burning,
blazing with the furor
of those astronauts when they open the pod
and look out with virgin eyes into the only real warranty-worthy vacuum.

I am flushed,
I am free, and I am fevered,
singed with the love
of those creative minds who bothered before
to plot out exactly why we fuss with life.

listen, comrades,
friends, lovers, foes:

I am thunder, a reminiscent reminder
of my strike.
watch me roar.