Charged

I'm tuned up
I'm a charged particle
a sky pregnant with storm
   stretched over the barren earth
incandescent
I breathe fire and shit lightning
my hair stands on end, an ovation
my tongue is a needle
my eye is a microscope
spying on the world crawling by in slow motion
I could fly past the stop signs
and careen off the walls
I can hit all the bumpers for high score
a creaking balloon warping its shape
a battery waiting for an engine to jump
the foamy rush of rapids
a shooting star
I'm burning up on re-entry
I'm the gleam in the eye of a stunt driver
I'm the pulse in the heart of a ninth-inning pitcher
I'm the pains of labor
and the dawn of Christmas
I'm the spark on the kindling
I'm burning up