Waves crashing  on jagged rocks,

attempting to reach the warmth of the lighthouse,

only reaching the base,

only able to grasp at the ankles.

The waves want to  climb that spiral staircase to infinity,

The waves want to climb all  the way to the top,

so they can dry off, and not be waves anymore.

                          the waves, exchanging gravity for buoyancy,

and the waves keep the change, too.

When I close my eyes I can  see the  lightning.

A candle lights not only the  entire room,

but the hallway, too.

The hallway, too.

The door of  the linen closet is shut still,

but it is not locked.

When I close my eyes I can see the  lightning.

An unmarked grave,  as opposed to

                      flowers being  neatly left at the door of the mausoleum.

But it is not locked.

Still no one ever knocks, though.

No one wants to see the skeletons  and the pharaoh’s,

                                               no one wants to breathe their air,

                                                           or read their newspapers,

                                                               and no one wants to shake their brittle hands,

 and no one wants their curses,

                                                                                                   or their recipes either.

When I close my eyes I can see the lightning.

An empty park bench,

as opposed to a crowded one,

there is still an empty spot in the grass, you know?

can I have my sheet music back now?

because the music has stopped entirely.

When I close my eyes I  can see the  lightning.

The road can be covered  in fog,

                but fog cannot be covered a road.

When I close my eyes I can see the lightning.

                                                 The sound of crickets reverberates at night,

especially when they can never be found,

and  weightless conundrums come at you like slow hands,

                              and you

sleep during commercials,

(to drown out both  the crickets and  the conundrums)

                                                                                               and you sleep during the best part,

                                   following winding rivers with my eyes  as they descend into puddles,

              my eyes, too descend into puddles,

My eyes…my eyes.

drooling on a pillow that is not for sleep.

drooling on a pillow that is not for sleep.

When I close my eyes I can see the lightning.

Look at those grand canyons!

Look out for those tour guides!

                                                          Watch out, the snakes are awake  now!

When I close my eyes I can see the lightning.

A slice of ham will always be more salty than any slice of turkey,

no matter who the butcher is,

no matter what the butcher is,

and some  staircases ascend further than they should,

and some fires burn brighter then they should,

and some firemen put out those same fires over and over again,

and some people light those same fires over and over again,

                    and some cats chase the same

                                           dreams over and over  again,

some cats will always chase the same dreams,

                                          and their  tails,

over and over again.

 and some cats…

I  can  feel the lightning when I close my eyes.