Before the thunder coats my lungs I whisper soft

The storm is a cacophony of pink that flows between slow and stop.
In every direction, pointed hats and sharp signs
stinging words and biting looks
phrases dotted with peaches and comb-overs
hardened women fiercer than the surging wind.

I had never imagined feeling so powerful until
50,000 women
and men and nonbinary friends
engulfed my senses in magenta and bubblegum
and lightning struck 100,000 times in the space of two blocks.