She tucked a blue tress behind her ear
and eyed the lamplights flickering overhead,
letting the wind wash over her fingertips
electrifying chlorophyll veins and sparking
nerves, jolting memories of rain and tempest
out of the darkness of her heart.

“Strange Weather”

They drove without looking at each other
for the longest time.
She was scared she’d turn and see
a tornado, twisting upward, grasping houses
and diners and schools and friends.
That’s not what she see’s; it’s
a flash of blue
at the steering wheel, eyeing a future
marked on the road in front of them.