Storm Coming

You galloped across the Badlands of my inner
enough to make me go outer
for the first time

Outside there were storm clouds
and fireflies
and men with beards
that bristled against my soft skin
as they scoured with soft hands
against my hard heart

Inside there was lightning
and sometimes rain
sometimes solar flares

Sometimes a kiss means nothing more than
“I like the way you look”
But if I wasn’t on the receiving end of lips
it meant
“I like the way you listen”

It meant
“I think you may match the criteria
for what I’ve been taught about love

Let's join lips and hands and hips
and if you know how to--
souls”

But no one knew how to
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks
or how to wash the dishes
Let alone, how to hold lightning
in a jar

The dishes piled high like your pride in the sink.

You galloped across the mesa on my trusty steed
leaving me to guess at the logistics
of riding a daddy long legs to work

Sometimes a kiss meant
“I like your lightning,
I see it matches my thunder”

Always, it meant
there was a storm coming