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,
settling on your clothes & hair;
side street deserted
gray comatose trees hang stark,
snow clinging to branches
like a layer of muscle;
someone's old car, a spot of color;
a shot of orange fire bursts
through a side window
a flower raging open,
red bells & gray skies exposed
over the screaming heart of the flames;
it grows in seconds,
white smoke billows into a
black sooty haze,
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 but the car's black skeleton
just past the traffic light
& not even 10 minutes have gone by;
morning's breeze & the chill standstill,
ribbons of smoke now mingle
with the clouds.