Heat Lightning

She had her own Edison on a heart string.
The electrical fires in the muscle jumpstarted her left eye.
The bulb flickered on, he dials it back in.
 
Reality was just what she believed and she believed nothing 
but the shape of dark on dark and the color of the hour.
He was both.
 
He was at night the canyon, body, open.
She wore dopamine around her throat on a thin gold rope
she could have climbed down, but why not
throw herself off the edge? Why not fold the umbrella
and remember the romance in the rain?
Taste the heat lightning
over again.
Wait because it never strikes just twice.