Tropical Mic

He storms
festering quickly
zero to 100 in a blink
blank and brooding
seated

between what we used to be
and what we are
angry that he's only
enjoying the breezes
He has needs

His necessary
travels
rage through states
in screaming escapades
deceiving and destroying

everything he touches
grappling with his mistakes
like he dropped a mic
before the set ended
and he's standing embarrassed

looking for me
collateral damage
thrift store treasure
discarded comforts
the salvation in his army

That's when I touch him
stand in his disappointment
use my fingertip to write
a new direction
and point to his heart

cover my lips
watch him defuse
wait for him to melt
and catch his wax
 between my fingers