The title gives the poem its twist: the speaker is a "disaster junkie," someone who can't stop watching storms and catastrophes unfold. The first stanza admits a kind of shared pretense. "We" act innocent, but the speaker has "read the history of the weather," so they know what nature is capable of and can't claim surprise.
In the second stanza, the speaker fears stopping, as if looking away would be a loss or a risk. Yet they feel "full of wind," which could mean empty talk, restless energy, or a body taking in the very thing it watches. The poem leaves that open.
The last stanza turns the guilt outward. The "wonders" we gasp at, the "ah" of awe, are the same forces that "do us in." The mood is wry and uneasy: fascinated, a little ashamed, and aware that wonder and danger come from the same source.