every raindrop on the
car windshield turns into
an ocean

and with my luck i
could be struck by lightning
and survive.

perhaps the electrical impulses
could cosmically and
inexplicably change me

send life back into my tired
neurons and set a cold fire
deep in my bones.

so i'll stay
in this parking lot

and i'll
wait

for the blue
flash of fallout

watching the shadows of
rain run down my
own glassy skin.

it's march again
and i know what i should
be listening to

the damp spring
suddenly coming up
on traffic islands

i should be
absolutely
thunderstruck

flying through the air
head buried deep
in the wispy clouds

but i'm finding myself
lightningstruck
in place

feet on the ground
drowning in
pavement.