we can see the fire burning away on the coast. we can see it. but I’m watching it. it burns in a straight line, up from the rocks, lapping at the road. clearly defiant. the constant ocean breeze pushes around the rich smell of ash. those are people’s houses down there, their lives and pictures and ingredients to tomorrow’s meals. beaten and consumed by flame. from here, the orange fire line is almost beautiful. such calm. such fury. an almost soothing view of choreographed demolition, like a movie battle scene on mute. out over the water, the smoke does a wicked imitation of a stretching dragon. near the source, it is high and corregated like the plumes left marks on one another, the way a dancing dragon’s back undulates. further out, where tides are at play, it levels out. the quiet tail laid flat against the sunset. the fire’s tips cry out, reaching up for the dragon it creates. around it, other people’s lives rage on. by nightfall, the smoke isn’t even visible, cloaked as it is by the darkness, held tight to the black water. its hour of interest has past.
01-08-07