Hot night in Tucson.
People ooze through the dark,
caught in the dream.
I cycle like the moon,
sometimes needing to be seen
needing to be held,
sometimes needing to observe
hidden from view,
but always here,
here for you.
Crowds gather
as drops fall
timid, through the netting.
Last night, there was a storm -
twelve minutes
of vengeful winds and ghostly dust
whipping through the dark -
Glorious.
Crowds dispersed
to cower
one by one,
hidden in their eyes.
They quiet now, waiting in the daylight
as the drops fall, timid.