(Untitled)
Poem by Charley Foster •
Photo by Jim Chiesa
Crossing the street to get
a newspaper I'm looking left and right for signs of traffic when I step
in a stationary air mass. I whirl around cursing to myself and the
stationary air mass comes with me trailing strings of isobars. It's a
real mess. I'm walking backwards wiping the stationary air mass
against the pavement when I feel my other foot step right into another
stationary air mass. Now when I walk my every step brings the
no-longer stationary air masses clashing together and the unstable air
along their fronts whips up thunderstorms and blizzards and hail. It's
even worse when I stand still. I stop before the newspaper
machine and rummage in my pocket for change when someone says, hey
watch it Bub, do you want to flood the whole town. I look down at my
feet and, sure enough: stationary front. I roll my eyes and
trudge conspicuously down the sidewalk, tornadoes writhing like
tentacles from my ankles.
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