sitting in my car
the heat turned up
to take away the razor edge
of the morning's cold rain,
waiting for my husband to
buy a pack of cigarettes
in a seedy convenience store,
little town near the ocean
lost & salt stinking high past
the broken roofs;

side street deserted
trees hang comatose, stark,
& a spot of color draws my eyes
to someone's old car,
a shot of brilliant orange
bursts like a flower raging open
through a side window,
red bells & gray skies exposed
over the screaming heart
of the flames;

it grows in seconds,
white smoke billows up
into black soot,
dirty breath taking over the sky,
but the trucks come quick,
get control of the fire
as though it's a rowdy child;
nothing left now but the black skeleton
just beyond the traffic light
& not even 10 minutes have passed;

morning breeze & moist dead air,
ribbons of smoke now mingle
with the clouds.

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