Storms

I awake and find my cheeks wet
subtropical hot tears
like the storm on the solstice
you can see it coming on the radar
but the first gust still catches you off guard

islands apart

On the dock, like an island
apart from the outside world

we can whisper our truths
as the sun slowly burns our backs

and you sit
a baby with a full diaper in your lap
without complaint

and tell of following improbabilities
the sixth sense we cannot grasp
but can only sometimes touch

how they brought you here
to this sun-glinting moment of summer
watching me belly flop into the pond