...there's a good old-fashioned thunderstorm crashing out my window. I saw it blow up from the cushy chair at the Barnes & Noble, where I sat behind a giant glass facade, drinking root beer and reading Pablo Neruda's 20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair and thought it should be reversed; Despair then 20 love poems, followed by more Despair then 20 love poems.
...when the storm came in, the trees shook, the outdoor fountains began to spray wildly. I looked at the girl reading next to me and joked, "Hope you didn't walk here." I had walked. The dark came up very suddenly. My parking ticket is illegible. My capacity for ill will tumbles like the barometer reading.
...I am so in love that I have a secret identity from all these strangers I'm joking with. Sudden weather brings out the socialite in me. But I'm a superhero. My chest is larger than normal proportions allow. I am going to be a professor of poetry. What faculty wouldn't swallow me up? I'm perfect.
...I lied about the Neruda. I was reading Batman comics. Excuse me, graphic novels. I kept the Neruda on my lap for appearances sake. But I was living in Gotham.