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Rodney DeCroo
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The Lightning Catcher
On a Friday evening in deep summer my father has come home from the tavern, and sits in the kitchen in his work clothes. Cigarette burning in one dirt hardened hand, with the other he grabs me by the arm, laughs as the coal dust makes me sneeze, says, 'You can catch lightning in your hands if you're quick enough,' pushes me away and reaches back for his beer.
The flicker of fireflies in the air dims and the alley is dark except for the weak street-lamp light outside Cooper's Tire Garage. I let a mayonnaise jar drop from my hand, it shatters against concrete, my captive dying fireflies crawl out over the glass. I hear beginnings of thunder and climb the fire escape that hangs down from the side of our apartment building, go to the tar roof.
The Allegheny River curves dark green below me, car headlights move along Pittsburgh Street, beneath rail-yard lights the train tracks run black through the glare of white gravel, and the steel bridges more numerous than I had ever imagined 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 connect up darkness with darkness as I stand on that roof scabby-kneed surveying what is suddenly my kingdom.
Beyond the hills across the river, jungles explode with trip lines, fighter jets roar and tear apart the sky and earth until it is all a tunnel in which napalm glows out of sightless eyes surrounded by black clouds and smoke that slide behind my father's words, his silence and his eyes. My streets and car headlights blur. They are my fireflies.
Thunder pounds like detonating shells, stripping the air. When the lightning hits, it blinds me. I could be crawling over the tar, sharp rain falling around me or standing in darkness above the house, shaking. I feel someone moving behind me. I know the smell of tobacco, sweat, beer, and coal dust. I'm quick enough to know it's my father.
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