A Summer Storm On Ludlow Street
Sipping on iced coffee
Speaking of dreams so lofty
That they evaporate like the smoke from our pipes.
The air we breathe is filled with black clouds that were:
The Great American Novel,
A cure for cancer,
A Nobel Prize,
And all the answers to the world's disasters.
For now we can't move;
This sweltering heat
Will cook the meat off our bones.
But then the sky,
Filled to the brim with our pessimism,
Lets out a blood curdling scream.
In a flash of light--
It explodes into a million raindrops.
My thoughts quench the sidewalk
And, if I were younger,
I could bend over to pick up the pieces and start again.
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