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Sitting there
beside you on the warm June pavement
I learned something about you
watching lightning weave stories in trails
between the clouds that drifted over our heads
Lightning from a storm not yet broken
and the echoes of thunder
that didn't quite reach our ears
We were as far from each other then
as the storm from the two of us.
Your eyes fixed on the clouds
waiting for the next flash

to hold it captive in your mind
(another little snapshot of a memory)
and I didn't know if I would also be there
or if my shoulders-only inches from yours-
were just a cursory detail.
There were three different colours when the thunder ceased.
First, the white-hot bolt itself,
the purest streak of light I've ever seen
Then the blue afterimage imprinted
on our eyelids, fading
to the edges of the clouds
(That same blue which so coldly lit your face)
and a warmer colour I couldn't name
that melted over the horizon like the softest grace of dawn.
In a flash, it all disappeared,
leaving only the thought of it behind
and leaving us blinking, seeing glowing ribbons
pasted on everything else around.
You laughed when it struck
another chord between the clouds,
maybe sensing a kinship
with your own bright flare
burning hot and wild, unaware
of my terror at letting you go
Off in the clouds, you smile
and your eyes see only lightning.

Learn more about this author, Kurt Jensen.
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