The Summer of Thunderstorms (Poetry)[Complete]

The Prolegomenon: How It Began

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The trampoline's in the backyard

'Cause I lived with adrenaline junkies

Who think tomorrow's way too far

And Alfred Hitchcock's really quite funny

You catch it in their crazy eyes

When they're too spaced out to notice

You think you're safe, you think you're fine

Until you find, you're wanted for the circus

On, off, on, off, on, off, go, -(stop)-

I knew this

Wasn't quite your thing:

Always racing.

Not really sure

Of what you are, or what

You are chasing.

A little boy rolled his letter up and

Sent out his message in a bottle

The plastic stirs the contents below

Soon there'll be more beer than water

But the people here cannot be bothered

They came to escape their small towns

The city's pace fits the beats of their hearts

The bustle's what keeps them around

Glassy-eyed moths drop their nun cloaks

And follow the flaming red light

It had to be pumped with even more power

So its shine, through the smoke, would stay in sight

And they've gotten used to invisible stars

Bright windows have taken their place

For dark, the windows never are

Ever awake, the people stay

Racing, racing, racing,

Black hair blowing across your face, you're

Racing, racing, racing,

To keep up with the pace, but

As anyone who has ever had

A trampoline in their backyard should know

All that goes up must also come down

And when you fall, you'll feel it tomorrow.

On, off, on, off, o-

Run. Like. Hell.