"Oh!

Tell me!

What is wrong with you?"

Well

I think that lightning

Struck somewhere

Caught my blood on fire

Bent my body

Like tree limbs.


"Oh!

Tell me!

What can I do?"

Well

I'm trying to put this fire out

With gallons of black tea.

Maybe you should just

Try to pick those fallen branches

Up off the ground

If you want to be a part

Of the disaster relief.


"Oh!

Tell me!

Why are you made of thunderstorms?"

Well

I'm thinking it's genetic

Or maybe the price I have to pay

For the tilting angle

Of my brain.

But don't you worry

About this sporadic bit of lightning.

After my hurricanes

Sunshine always comes.

Yes, it does.