By Echolocation
Date: 2002 Jan 10
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Storm Chaser

There are times when she hates him
When, if she could, she would wrench out from her memory
Every sight, sound, smell, touch, taste
That has anything to do with him
She would tame her world so that there are
No sharp edges
No violent contrast of light and dark
No changing skies or violent weather
Just a constant mellow twilight
Without challenge but also without fear
Without passion but also without pain

But then she remembers
Lightning cracking the sky apart
While thunder rolls down the valley
The smell of ozone when a storm is coming
The feeling of rain on her skin
The taste of him on her lips

And she knows she's just a storm-chaser at heart