There’s such a thing as heat lightning,/it never blocks the way./What we cannot understand /we explain away./On the porch with her late at night,/ the sky rang out blue – a Summer’s day. She says- that’s just heat lightning,not the real thing. Traveling fast in June./ I found a stick,/ left the porch, /walking up the road. I met her dogs there, calmed by waves,/bombing out in blues.In big cities, where we try/holding on to lunar light, /burning bonfires in vacant lots,/askinging for a deal with tenderness/that screams out loud./ Tenderness screaming can’t do it alone. It has to clamor noiselessly./Heat lightning, never in the way. /Not forked lightning,/ but an electric surge ,/ freezing as it sways.