Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Pocketing Fire

by Patrick McGee

He had fire in his eyes,
the man that took me
to a power station
to break inside.
His eyes spoke their flame.
One last episode before life

I climbed rusted ladders,
crawled under rotted boards,
threw rocks at glass,
rolled on concrete,
covered my skin
with dust and ash.
He led me to the smokestack
and we climbed and climbed
and climbed, the iron rungs

sweaty and warm.  We stood
at the rim, the earth spread out.
The spotlights blazed,
the sirens blared.
This is living, he said,
baring his teeth
to suck in the hot air,
filthy and raw.  I laughed
when I pushed him
from the edge.
They took him away
in the trunk of a car,
drove north to the station.

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