the kids ate chocolate-dipped
ice cream cones
while they watched the inferno
burn the house up the hill
behind Safeway, the dry cleaners,
and the second hand book store.
they clambered on
decorative boulders
in the parking lot planters
seeking a more advantageous
point of view of the flames
licking the eucalyptical grove.
the smoke smelled like
Kool menthol perfumed jazz.
all that remained the next day
were foundations,
a stairway that led
in the direction of heaven,
four shovels
with the handles burned off
laying side by side in the driveway,
sauce pans still sat on stove
a charred teddy bear
floated face down
in the swimming pool,
a routine californian
apocalyptical scene.
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