Of all weather conditions
I like wind the best.
Like a giant force
it blows debris
from one place to the next
bending trees and sometimes
breaking them.
When I go out
it messes my hair
tangles my clothes
and grabs things,
like my hat or scarf,
forcing me to chase them
down the street
even pulling up my skirt
for anyone to see
what I’m wearing underneath.
Yeah, I like the wind
like a rakish young lover
closer to boy than man,
leaving me vulnerable,
I hold my skirt, close my eyes
struggle with the door to get
to shelter, safe from the teasing,
aggressive treatment of the wind.
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