The Write Brain - Poetry of the Times Migration by Richard M. Berlin Electronic needles jolt me half awake.
Rain explodes against the windows.
The relentless pager rips the fog like a slasher. As I run to the car, Hurricane Erin whips my face, broken tree limbs, hot wires all over the road. I blast the radio for a millisecond and crush it off, head screaming for silence. Blackness until town, then corners ignite in mercury vapor. Fluorescent emergency signs, parking lot lines glow and waver like lurid deep sea eels.