forecast: 83 degrees and snow

wake up and smell the ozone -
if you can get the door
latched shut in time.
there’s thunder in the air and
you can smell it coming
half a day away. it smells
like humidity and cotton
candy and a worn out
steam iron and yet not quite
any of that. but that was
then and this is now, when
the down draft whistles
down the canyons, shakes
the trees, and knocks out
the lights with a power that’s
entirely elemental. wipe
the desire off your face, rush
out, roll up the windows
on the rig – but too late… the
entire dash is spattered with
dust and raindrops, blown
in at right angles.the thunder
rolls down the mountain
in honor of our most famous
son, again and again. in
your nose it is the iron age, 
and the air tastes of zinc
and danger and the
sulking of an old friend.