Before A Storm And Far Off The Set Road

He is failing: he is far
From composing the country
Songs that run
Thru' those air currents
Heading South
From the Georgia Line

Another boy(a blonde)waits
With his
Mother. He is wondering
At the
Pressure of the air. Everyone
Becomes a barometer now,
The change in movement
Or thought…

All of them
Reflect that lurid light
Of a before-thunderstorm.
I-95 is closed.
An accident.
The egrets are perching
Among the restless cattle.
Flagler Florida and
The heat off the
Parking Lot is only not-emptiness
The men
Inside are seconds
Before lightning the nothingness
Of air
Pre-storm

(Hank Williams tunes in
someone has placed a
full-iced beer can on
his grave)

The boy pulls
Out as static clings to
Each molecule of heat
And closeness forming
A substance of the electricity and anticipation.

Suddenly: this
Far South mid-Florida off
95 and into
Somewhere.

Nothing.