Home-Made Firecrackers

All four horizons roil with menacing thunderheads,

two storms clasping shoulders before embracing atop us.

As I lean back against the car door, I am aware of you and of your muddled awareness,

the air around us awash with various intoxicants.

It's odd that I would risk the wrath of the approaching tempest

for a string of experiences that I may only partly remember.

But the scents that you exude, the smoke and liquor that ride on your tongue,

are both redolent and addictive. 

The wind shoves the surrounding scenery in vicious circles.

I'm sure I could find shelter before the sky erupts, but I won't,

because you won't.