and then the mountains gave way to a plain
of cacti, ragged scrub and empty space.
away, a little north, a storm cloud raced
the west wind, and a heavy sheet of rain
blocked out the jagged peaks. the radio
was crackling, signal weak, but strong enough
for us to hear the warning of flash floods
in western clark. "go slow, now, baby, slow,"
and in her eyes, the lightning flashed. When she
was gone, with him, and no word for some time
the flash flood crossed in front me. The line
of distant mountains faded, blocked in seas
of gray. just down the road a ways the sky
was blue, and yet the stormcloud held my eye.