I've seen the stormchasers on TV.
Some dumbass person
will take off in a dead sprint
in pursuit of thunder claps
and a looming storm
to gobble up the peril like
a kid with their first bowl of ice cream.
They probably think they're invincible.
I imagine some hick with a red plaid shirt
and a toothpick
talking to a reporter,
"Me and them tornados? We's friends.
They wouldn't hurt a fly.
Someday I'mma lasso one like Pecos Bil,
good boy he was."
And their gravestones
will be engraved with tact.
"Wally O'Neal, loved adventure."
But his relatives will scoff
and start forgetting to leave flowers.
Somehow I almost get it, though.
We all gotta chase something.
Last time I checked I didn't see anyone running backwards.
We have to make dreams to run toward.
Some in a dead sprint,
others in a conscious meander.
I try not to admit it but you're the storm -
Go ahead, guess what I am.