There were no clouds. I prayed for lightning.

Every poem about thunder was written under the protection of a roof, or, at the very least, an empty sky	leaves spiralled around us like a benediction	Sitting in the library, listening to the rain, reading an interesting book and wanting to meet the man who just walked past	June 17, 2008
you, radiating out among the crush of people	lost we	Thunderstorm	lightning
Magic in the World

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