Another poem I dug up. I fuckin' hate tornadoes.

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To block out the house’s shaking and groaning,
as if it will topple on me any second,
I stare at the wall beneath the stairs
with the stereotypically tacky wallpaper.
I fancy the notion that the baby blue birds
that line the wall are just as terrified
as the SOL saps stuck outside.

To drown out the wailing sirens,
whipping wind, and crashing thunder,
I sing to myself, instinctively,
regretting not charging my iPod.
I just reach the third verse of Feel Good Inc.
before my brother tells me to shut it.

To blot out the abrupt dark,
heralded by a belated rumble,
I imagine what it would be like to live
somewhere away from the Midwest.
Somewhere nice and temperate
and not so tornado prone.
And then my mind wanders to TexMex.

And to welcome the news of safety
(and the return of the lights),
I breathe deep, throw up my hands,
and make thousands of resolutions I’ll never keep.
Any further meditations on the glory
and fragility of life will have to wait, though,
as Team Fortress 2 awaits.