Did you see it?

Clink, clink, clink…boom

Flames swirling up black steps

shattering windows, blurring streets

A rattling in riveted steel legs

Piped fingers tightening as

knuckling white steam wraps

around long whistling poles 

It was a clear Friday, a sliced

pineapple sun topped whip cream clouds

as lush lime bushes were mistily

perfumed by a thinly knit wind

Each breeze lead to lost sands

Numbers on a dial, fallen digits

A misused sparked match  

ignited inner cities like dry wood

Quick fingers pressed down

on the lightning bug triggers  

bursting frizzed coated tubes

spreading the commands like

fallen sidewalk balloons

After, blades of light entered

silence stripped halls as

thin doors snail under

Years later only, a plot remains

By Amaury Genao