Mud

It was unclear whether the boys saw him

When they heaved the rock

Into the muddy water

Timed just so that

The water splashed through the chain link fence

And onto his dry khaki pants

 

Their skin nut brown and their hair smooth black

One all curves and one all angles

Their eyes grew big

As they saw the rage gathering

On his heavy red face

 

The skinny one hid behind his cousin

As if behind a tree

Peeking his head around to watch

And both danced with light feet

Like pups

Ready to run if chased

 

It only took a second or two

For everyone to realize

The man was too old to jump the fence

And would stand only to lose his dignity

Trying and failing to catch the prancing boys

 

They expected, at the very least, a dressing down

That they could mimic later

In the safe shade of the crepe myrtles

But his earphones

Still playing a lengthy discussion of the aluminum tariff

Seemed to render him speechless

And then with his collie

Tugging on the leash

He had to settle for mustering

A Fearsome Glare

 

He stopped a few more times along the fence

To stare at his pants

And to fire off further Glares

But the boys were long gone

Laughing and chasing

And they passed right by

Wroth

It was one of those storms that came

When you couldn’t quite enjoy it

Off and on

Between midnight and 3 am

The clatter of heavy rain on the roof

The long rumble of thunder

Rolling across the flat land

With nothing to stop it

 

It was when all was quiet

Just the slow drips from the eaves

When it happened

A house-shaking

Bone–rattling

POW

 

You felt it in your guts

It was like God

Had reached his fist through the clouds

To sock this little piece of land

It was an angry blow

Meant to hurt

And it was so surprising

I had to reach out

 

As for what he was angry about

Well

That could have been anything

One day

There was a day

In September

When clouds covered

The naked

White hot

Eye of a sun

 

They were not

The dark purple bruises of cloud

That clot the sky

And portend

Thunder

And raindrops

Big as grapes

That turn streets to rivers

And parched soil

Into mud

That sticks to you

For weeks

 

The air

Was not like hot

Dog breath in your face

It didn’t cling to you

Like a cobweb

In the early morning

It was fresh

And had movement

And promise to it

 

The rain was light

Cool and mild

I think of that day

And am grateful

Lightning

When we first moved here

We weren’t prepared

For the way that it rains

The way the sky splits open

And just pours out water

Giant splattering drops

That sound like hail on the roof

 

And the lightning and thunder

That come without pause

Making you a child

Equal parts amazed and terrified

 

We got caught in a lightning storm

Biking to the pool

Which had just closed

Due to the weather

Other people saw what was coming

On the way home it descended all together

The soaking rain

Lightning that cracked in blinding flashes

And thunder that rolled directly behind it

Without any counting of one thousands

First we tried to out-bike it

Then we huddled under a tree in mute terror

 

A family kindly invited us inside

And we stood, dripping rivulets onto their floor

Apologizing while they brought us towels

The towels were fresh and white

Like from a hotel

The stairs were tiled with beautiful

Blue and white Spanish tile

 

We made polite conversation

Waiting for the storm to pass

But lightning kept coming in the same blinding flashes

Finally the man drove one of us

To get our car

We herded the children in

Drove them home

Dried them off

And watched the storm continue

From the silence and privacy of home

 

A classmate of mine was killed by lightning

A round-faced boy

With spiky hair

Ruddy cheeks and lively eyes

Who did what the teachers said

Only when it pleased him

At a summer camp in the mountains

Lightning struck a tree

Traveled along the ground

And killed him instantly

As he sat on a picnic bench

 

I don’t know if my fear of lightning

Is shaped by his story

Or if it’s the raw animal fear

We’re all born with

Girls with plastic bags

The students are already deep in their worksheets

Time-telling, hour hand and minute hand,

This one five, then ten, fifteen.

Lining up numbers for adding and subtracting

The ones and the tens and the hundreds

Carrying

Borrowing.

The people they woke up as,

The ones who rifled through dressers

For a favorite shirt

Who hurriedly ate the buttery centers of toast,

Dry crumby crusts discarded,

Are like strangers to them.

 

Two girls, sisters, race to school through the rain.

The smaller one, out front, rides a scooter

Sailing through puddles like lakes.

They wear brown plastic grocery bags on their heads

Plastic handles tied beneath their chins.

The wind blows the bags against their faces

Seeming to provoke fate

But they laugh as they hurry towards the school.

 

The streets are shallow rivers

Shoes on stoops that were left to dry in the sun yesterday

Are now sodden

 

Out in the west

Buffered by the nearly infinite Pacific Ocean

The weather seemed considered, deliberate, conservative.

Here it feels biblical

The sun white hot, punishing,

Accompanied by plaguing cicadas.

Rain steals in on cat feet

But arrives with thunder and lightning

That strip you to your core animal

 

This rain is just steady

Drenching

Coming inches at a time

Turning soil into a slick of sticky mud.

 

When they reach the school, they too will have to shed

These outside selves

Crumple them up like the grocery bags

Leave them outside

And hope the wind will not blow them away

In the meantime