thunder and lightning

She taps her nails on the cedar wood of a table that would be ideal in a dinning room if she had that much space.
It thunders.
She takes a drag off a Camel Blue, even though she promised her six year old she wouldn't smoke inside.
It lightnings.

He rises his right knee, calf, ankle, foot on the pedal of a mountain bike struggling through the storm on a sidewalk.
It thunders.
He slides, he falls, no one is there to hear him scream.
It lightnings.

She climbs into bed between her parents, and her innocence replaces the stench of adult talk that separated them before.
It thunders.
No one wonders if the bills will be paid anymore tonight. Her daddy holds them both.
It lightnings.

She puts her her ballet flats.The ones that make her bleed.
It thunders.
She takes them off, and goes outside in the soft grass. it's cold and wet, but she can't ever remember feeling as much as she does now. She whispers "this is ballet"

And somewhere the sun is shinning.