#22

Skipping rocks across the lake
that is the parking lot,
the scratchy rhythm,
tiny sparks of pebble to pavement,

a galaxy of lit boredom
next to the liquor store,
the broken glass winking
at the pickup that peels out.

Heatwave thundercrack,
electric storm creasing itself
into pockets of sky, a shaky shout,
a single kid in the field, looking up

knowing what's coming next.