I am writing feverishly at Command Central after a long day space-traveling, commuting at warp factor 2 across the galaxy using our interplanetary communication device as SATNAV aid and-

(interrupting) OMG, we went to the dentist! With all the usual hijinks involved in getting from The Lower Ninth to Uptown. Admittedly, they really should coordinate those bus schedules in some way, but they don’t seem to, not so much. As for Command Central, it’s a table we rescued and fixed the legs with craft sticks and holds our electronic stuff. I thought you wanted to write a poem.

Oh yeah, huh. Let’s see-

It will rain
as its wont
in New Orleans,
mixing wind with lightning.

I prepare,
shutting windows
and making coffee,
knowing the lights might go out.

LED lamp
on the charger,
a candle on the table,
wondering where I put the matches.

A bad one
they say, New Orleans
to Atlanta. Possible tornadoes
with destruction in their wake.

Others write of love
while I, storms and contentment.
Each journey begins,
each journey ends with earth under myΒ feet.

That’s it? That-is-it?

Yup, spent a bunch of time on it, too. At least 15 or 20 minutes.

Did you edit it at all? Really, did you?

Yup, at least another five minutes. I mean to say I sweated blood over it. Well, almost.