Ophelia, you’ve been on my mind like a drug, like a long-lost love, ever since you made the ocean rise and caused my basement to flood; You were madness from the north-north-west, made of water and wind, and you died a muddy death in an overflowing brook that swamped my yard when I let down my guard.
I understand you were angry you were never upgraded to Hurricane and had to travel in coach with the other tropical storms that had barely earned a name, but, Ophelia, I wish you had just gone right out to sea and drowned yourself.
I understand you were angry you were never upgraded to Hurricane and had to travel in coach with the other tropical storms that had barely earned a name, but, Ophelia, I wish you had just gone right out to sea and drowned yourself.
