Kerosene Dreams
The real risk is fire.
Flames.
It’s not butterflies.
Or caught up in trance.
It’s about gesturing to an exit.
And quiet before the vapor.
The tv got ash all over it.
The real risk is fire when you live in a kerosene dream.
Flames.
Curtains.
Kerosene dreams.
Quit on me.
The real risk is fire.
They never told me not to use the elevator.
Maybe they did.
It didn’t turn me into a butterfly.
The firefighter told me while dusting off a bone.
The real risk is already over.
Coughing is leftover.
Phlegm turned to dust.
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