#38/11-28-2014

near death

dale had been
in the mental institution.
he wasn’t crazy.
he just wanted to die.
he’d tried razors.
and ropes.
a car wreck.
pills.
though he was always
too shy
for a pistol.
he’d been out for six months
when the sirens
went off.
a tornado was near.
his mother was at church.
she called and said,
‘dale, i want you to go into the cellar.
a tornado’s coming right for you.’
and dale said, ‘alright.’
but after hanging up, dale
went outside to meet it.
he felt the rain.
a great grey cloud hung like a suffocating pillow.
the air was both warm and chilled.
he laughed when everything felt still.
a bird in the tree looked at him
then flew away.
the world started to rumble.
then the funnel churned before him.
grass blades ripped his forearms and
dust glazed his eyes.
a leafy tree was stripped naked
before being plucked.
he felt scared and turned for the door.
he was already weightless.
upside down and spinning.
he saw a roof coming at him.

he woke up.
there was a white cloud.
someone touched his arm.
he said,
‘i’m alive?’
someone told him.
and he didn’t mind at all.

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