When I walk into the room he’s already puffed-up wide-eyed scared
Looking like he’s seen god at the bottom of a bottle
I ask him what’s wrong and he shakes
Shakes his head
There’s something that neither of us want to say.
It’s on the horizon
Ground-shaking, dead-waking, alarms wailing as it pushes closer
He’s stuck in its path and in that body-freeze
Ready to be struck
I’m laughing in time with the rumble and staring down from behind the wheel
Wondering if the bottle or the god will save him first
I walk into the room.