[i love that word.]

turned my head and i looked outside the window. 
class was in session 
but i didn't try to be discreet. 
i couldn't help it. 
i felt its pull and i gave in.
the thunder roared and i 
closed my eyes for a moment.
feeling its sound. its strength. 
i watched the rain. 
a curtain in the wind.
sheets of water swaying. 
i was filled with an inexplicable sadness. 
i wondered if it showed on my face 
and it probably did 
but i had turned away only for a few seconds 
and i was relieved that no one noticed 
and, if they did,
no one asked me to return myself to the class.

what i really wanted to do 
was drag my chair to the windows 
and sit facing them.
watching the thunderstorm. 

i do not know what it touches in me. 
it invites me to join in its display of waterworks. 
i try not to. 
i usually succeed.

storm.
storm...
i love that word.

[their thick vacant congruity said]

their thick vacant congruity said much more than they wanted to
unbridled bodies belied the nonchalance of their words
they didn’t mean for us to see the sparks
he touched her on the arm
we knew

[hearts cannot grow in swollen lands]

tiny worlds held together by their tightly wound little selves that exist nowhere and nothing outside of themselves does either

words glimmer solely as mirrors to their enormous beings that tower over the tired futility of wordsmiths

and feelings are mere moments in a triumphant globe of disconnection and pools of reflection that reject all else-universes

hearts cannot grow in swollen lands bursting incredibly at the seams