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Nov 2011
Woke to the smell of smoke
Only to find my family
Standing around our couch which was on fire
Like a group of homeless people trying to stay warm

This is just practice
For when the money runs out

Forget the missing smoke detectors
Forget the old man just standing there
Saying, “I’m sorry” like old men do
Forget four walls
Walls are flammable

There is this distance
The size of apathy
And we
Are in the middle
Huddled around a fire
Trying to stay warm
As our house burns down around us

Until finally
Dry lips whisper water
And ***** lungs
Die for air
And I grab a hose from the porch

As the smoke finally clears
As they huddle in the car
With the heater running
As I learn to finally see my home as broken

Still
I will always have a safe place to cry
And we will always have a safe place
To lie
Jon Tobias
Written by
Jon Tobias  San Diego
(San Diego)   
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