always another tuesday night

i watch the weather
a favorite past time
greens and yellows and oranges dancing over
man-made maps.
meteorologist skips skips stops skips in segments
pointing to storm cloud animations
he looks
the rain falling outside
and the bunny-ears tv antenna
wrecks the picture; the sound.

i reach out;
i’m casting out all my lines.
pathetic really- which I know-
but, well,
i’m still human
and humans have those needs.
belonging. togetherness. friendship.

a word i’ve always liked which
doesn’t seem to fit quite anywhere;
much like me.
i’ve never really fit in
in any place, group of people, drum circle.
or is that what the other me
inside of me
tells myself?

the happy meteorologists say
the tornadoes may
head your way tonight.
you should be here with me;
having gotten past our
ridiculous, petty youth charades –
we would be laughing about it together,
we’d laugh, remembering how infantile we were then:
we just couldn’t make it work. anything.

now, though,
you can’t come back.
the tornadoes can’t get you;
can’t take you:
the world already did that.
rain patters against window panes,
i watch the weather alone, as i always have.
it makes me happy