fire (1984) written from the center of my rapidly-shrinking universe; images of smoke, fire and roof-jumping
fire
dear god it smells like fire
but we’re too late to see who’s jumping
please stare the other way from me
i’m not the one who brought the matches
call me cargo
you do the driving
i’ll sit here and i’ll be transported
sign on the radio says “listen”
i would, you know, but i believe that it’s broken
so you can talk all you want
talk your head off
talk a blue streak
no one’s listening
have you noticed?
with smoke there’s fire
its charm is heat and its curse confusion
and now i wish
that i’d stayed home today
better still
i wish that you had