Fire
Fire
A car—or truck—down the street,
Was riled in red flames—
Like an unkempt superwick
On a s’mores-scented candle—
When I arrived back home from
The airport last night.
Traffic backed up for miles.
Red and blue lights filled the
Otherwise clear, star-lit
Night sky, booming pyrotechnics.
I was a long week away:
Dodging bold blizzards
And TSA sick-outs, and
General, unfocused malaise
Of workaday frustrations,
And frozen sidewalks,
A rental car that shook
At 68 miles per hour due
To impacted snow in
The passenger-front chrome wheel well.
And your car wasn’t there, and
The driveway was bare;
I knew that you had to be
Safe, at work, enduring your
Own workaday frustrations.
But I didn’t know,
How long it’d been burning
Or, where you were: home?—surprise!—
And my heart mis-beat out, with
Loss weighted down by dread of loss.
I dwelt on the horrors of
A death in fire’s grip:
The searing pain; silenced
By the caustic cloud, choking
Unable to scream or cry:
Skin sizzling, last gasps.
A hell before heaven,
Praying for those they’ll leave,
Tears evaporating,
Un-doused, inextinguishable.
Neighbors lined the cracked sidewalks,
Cellphone cameras raised,
Capturing strangers’ terrors,
Obscuring flames with bright screens,
And then the hoses finally
Let loose salvation
Too late: the flames became
Clouds of grey smoke against
A black palette, souls charred
In a lump of steamed, steel charcoal.
Gathering up the luggage
I’d left on the porch,
I greeted the two feline
Purr machines that raced between
my legs, rubbing their
Ears against ankles;
When I sat, busy cats
Kneaded bread. I waited,
While I could—half awake,
Couch-bound—watching for your headlights.
And I sparked up a small bowl—
Puffed a one-hitter—
And poured a tall Maker’s Mark,
And I re-watched the footage
I’d captured and sent to you
To make sure you’d know
To avoid the traffic.
And when you shook my foot,
When you kissed me good night
I thanked God a little: a lot.
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