Journal 3: Tornado

The sky was darker than
Smoke from a fire. Swirling
Like cream in black coffee.

We were like sitting ducks
Waiting for something that
May or may not come, almost
Like awaiting a snowstorm.

But this was different,
Another kind of storm like another
Ice cream flavor.

Yet people kept moving as if
They were bees, buzzing like the phones
Vibrating in their hands and pockets,
Unaware of the danger that loomed overhead
Like the monster creeping up.

The sky was as dark
as a blank TV screen, reflecting
nothing, as if that would be all
left behind. Nothing.

Our town, stuck like superglue
To the ground below, waiting,
Waiting as the clocked ticked on.
Second by second.

People continued moving though,
Like the looming storm was the
Background wallpaper on their
Cellphone screens. Ignoring the storm
Overhead like dust in the air.

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