Hot August night, 11 th grade about to start. Thunder
wakes me just past four, and I am now too alert to sleep.
I listen to the storm, the rain striking the slate roof above me,
the box fan in my window whirring.
The sheets are damp from sweat.
I know somewhere people are making love right now.
It is not sex, not just biological; it is clean as rain.
I know that love follows the act as thunder follows the flash.
But I am filled with sex, filled with urge. The heat, my sweat,
the night, the storm, all bring thoughts and aching need.
I uncover and take care of biology.
The heat breaks. I roll over to watch the lightning, follow
the shadows’ dance along the wall. Night moves to dawn as
the storm moves south. I go downstairs
and watch the first-shift traffic pass the house,
wonder if any of the drivers saw the storm, made love
in its sounds and light.
The street is wet, tires making slick sounds gliding on it.
Sounds like wishes, wishes clean, clean as love.
Michael A. Griffith teaches at Raritan Valley and Mercer County Community Colleges in central NJ. He is the author of three chapbooks of poetry, Bloodline, Exposed, and the forthcoming New Paths to Eden. Recent works appear in Ariel Chart, Miletus Literature Review, U.S. 1 Worksheets, and The Lake. Mike lives near Princeton, NJ.