outside,
the world is doused in
gold light.
the woman across the street
prunes her roses.
three hipsters
giggle
on the porch next door.
a mangy black cat prowls
the street, mistaking
the twinkle of wind chimes
for a nest of chirping birds.
inside,
bruiser and i are
still. (what does
a tornado look like?
what does it
feel like?
it feels like
waiting.)