Private Cloud

My head's in the clouds, thoughts come and go. My brain's a storage unit, down a winding dirt road. Wires humming overhead, crows on the wires, red-tailed hawks in the fields by the trailer park.

Stored in the clouds, memories flash, lightning in the storm. A tornado of the brain, it's an EF-4, roaring down the interstate followed by the storm chasers getting footage on their phones.

In the debris cloud is the Pythagorean theorem, property descriptions, sonnets of Shakespeare, sunlight on water, a swirling plaid skirt, a spotted dog, a kiss in the summer grass. Here comes the gray cat again, followed by the first time I saw you in that faded jean jacket, the formula for photosynthesis, E=mc2