surge

these days
from the city
sometimes, a power
surge reaches
all the way
through into
my joints and I
am compelled
to count the steps
that I do not take
but are taken for
me by my toes,
centimeters closer
and closer outside
until I can see
myself from a vantage
on a meaningless
hill surrounded by trees
surrounded by mountains
where the warm
fronts collide
into the gossiping
rocks and frogs
and slide upwards
to become anvil clouds
the taste
is sour, or metallic
or bitter, like things
that are overvoltage
I cannot hold.