The storm hit
And I don’t feel like writing.
I don’t feel like singing a song about the damage and the tide.
I feel like reading a book.
Or meditating like a monk.
I don’t feel like dancing in this rain.
I don’t feel like watching the storm drains drain.
I don’t want to be your weatherman.
I don’t want you to follow me.
Or wait for my updates.
I don’t want to wait for the puddles to gather.
I want to stomp and flood my shoes.
I wished in the well
to be well.
For a minute the clouds held in the rain.
And I was.

I don’t want to write a poem today.
I want to
balance in a boat, hold my ground against the crashing waves.
I want to break a board or a block of ice with a karate chop.
Catch a fly with chopsticks
learn to crane kick.
Paint the fence,
Drive a bitching yellow convertible.
I want to kick Johnny in the face.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.