Tropical Storm

It’s coming
slowly
mile by mile up the Gulf
coming to me
I’m waiting
in the eerie stillness of the night
knowing that fury
is on its way
I hate the wait
I hate the anticipation
the pressure in the atmosphere
is crushing my head
got a headache that won’t quit
my cats are chill
but not me
so my mug is filled with rum
and I’m writing this weird sorta poem
listening to Shaboozey
singing about everybody at the bar
getting tipsy
and, man, that’s the only way
to get through the wait
for what’s coming
yeah, I’m a baby
but I’m a tipsy baby
Ha!