So you're a storm chaser now
of all things
you on the playground bench
content
chasing storms
and fierce skies now
you - facing downward
still
still
so you're racing now
chasing the blood orange that peeks around the lofty steeple
you on that tattered swing
shuffling your feet
too still
and you scoff at the lightening now
shaking it off
mocking it's distance
you're safe now
or indifferent
or sick of stillness
